A Journey of Discovery
by Countess of Cobert
Summary: The story of Cora Levinson and Robert Crawley as they progress from three days prior to their wedding to eleven months after it. Will Robert realise his feelings, and what trials will they each face in the meantime? And what discoveries, good and bad will the couple make about each other, themselves, and those around them? Rating subject to change.
1. Three Words

AN: A little warning now, the time gaps between chapters of this story are different, the first 8 or so span about 4 days while the remaining tend to have quite big jumps, it all came down to the narrative I wanted to create, and trying to reduce repetitiveness. But, I'm fairly certain everything makes sense and is explained within the text. Hope you enjoy this, and welcome to my version of Cobert's journey.

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Robert watched the flames lick at the shattered glass. And he watches with amusement as the colours flash in the hearth. Yellows to gold, oranges to red but it doesn't tease the fire burning in his heart. The anger flaring in his throat. It had all been going so well. Two days before the wedding. His wedding, and he'd spent the day with Cora. A whole day. They laughed, kissed, shared childhood stories. He felt he'd made progress with the worries his father had planted in his mind the morning before. That Cora was nervous, chaste and he needed to make sure she trusted him alone with her were things Robert had already known but when his father had reprimanded him for not being more adventurous with her, tempting her to understand her desires he'd stared at him, not convinced he should be imposing himself on Cora like that before the wedding. His fathers' curt reply 'it's not as if she's unattractive' still rang in his mind, or at least it did now, it hadn't all day, he'd escaped it but then...then. Then she'd said it.

They had been stood in her bedroom, in their night clothes. He entered to wish her a good night, as they had been doing for the last few nights. But before he knew what he was doing he wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. His hands had massaged at her hips, her hands rested on his shirt. The kiss had been different, her mouth seemed hungry and her tongue moved viciously against his. The gasps that had existed between their lips during the day had turned to moans and all too soon he'd found himself short of breath. She'd looked at him then, from below her lashes and her eyes had shone with trust and something else that at the moment he'd ignored. When he'd lowered his lips to her neck he heard her sharp intake of breath and he remembers his mumble against her neck that he'd look after her and wouldn't do anything she didn't want to do. She'd nodded against him her lips resting against his cheek and that was when she'd said it. He'd frozen then. His hands had gone rigid. His blood seemingly thick in his veins. He'd taken a rigid step back not hearing her words, asking him to return, to wait. The air choked him and suddenly he felt claustrophobic, the sweet sensation of her skin, her lips against his replaced by the stale air. He'd left the room offering no explanation only stopping when he'd arrived in the library, the drinks cabinet beckoning to him.

The liquid had stared back at him for some time as it swirled in the glass, matching the chant in his brain. 'You knew.' He had, he did, he'd known for some time, ever since she'd agreed to marry him. The sweet smile, her ringing laugh, the way she peered at him. He knew. He knew when she'd entered the room at Grantham house her hair piled on her head in perfection, her creamy skin glowing in the candlelight and he'd got down on one knee. He'd known when she'd purchased him his favourite book for his birthday. He knew when she laughed at his dreadful jokes. When he managed to make her blush at dinner. When he'd fed her a strawberry from the picnic basket that very afternoon. He knew. He'd always known. And yet he'd avoided it. Forgotten it. Pushed it aside as a problem for another day. Another month. Another year. And then she'd said it. Her breath a little short from their kiss. Against his skin. Three words. That was all, three. And what had he done? He'd run.

It was as these thoughts had occurred to him that he had swallowed the burning liquid and thrown the glass to the flames. There he had been trying to worry about her innocence, gently taking one step at a time, not wanting to impose himself on her. And what had she done? She'd imposed herself, she'd told him her feelings, shared them. Shared the burden of her heart and made his life so much harder. It wasn't that he wasn't honoured, of course he was, particularly as he wasn't a very vain man, not many women had ever found him overly attractive, aside from the attractions of his title every woman he'd ever known had found him boring, to prefer a book to a dinner out with friends confused even the most sensible. So, for a woman as intelligent, fiery and beautiful as Cora to fall in love with him, to find him interesting struck a cord. It was great, wonderful in fact, particularly when she was wonderful. But this wasn't the emotion that coursed in his blood, it was something stronger, violent, destructive.

Guilt.

Why should he have the love of a woman he didn't deserve? A woman who had the pick of every man at the season. The woman who had every man fawning all over her. Why had it been him? The only one of them who'd never be able to fulfil that love. She deserved the devoted husband, the one who had proposed because he loved her, not because his father had pressed him to. His cousin James had described Cora as a woman any man would wish to have at his permanent disposal and although Robert found the statement crude and utterly disgusting he knew the man had a point. She was hardly a woman he didn't wish to take to bed. The problem was he was sure he would disappoint her. Cora had fallen for a man that didn't exist, her prince, her hero, but he wasn't that man. He was a deceiver destined to marry for money. He'd flirted and danced to earn his price and Cora deserved better. She didn't deserve a man who was willing to take her money and her heart while offering nothing in return. The honourable thing seemed to be to let her go. To save her from the horrors of unrequited love.

Watching the last shards of glass melt within the flames and vanish Robert makes his final resolve. As he retreats thought the hall and to the stairs his fathers words from months ago come to mind: "You have a duty Robert, to save us. Marry a woman with some money and live calmly for a few years, produce an heir. After that time has passed society will easily turn a blind eye to a mistress. You can enjoy life, secure in your future." It was true that's what his father had done. But his father didn't see the woman, the wife he left behind for three nights a week while he did heaven knows what in London. His mother was a good actress, good at pretending to be happy when she wasn't. What his father had failed to take into account when he'd made that declaration was his son's character and the as yet unknown women. The thought of Cora's face in a similar fake smile echoes in his mind and he pauses on the stairs short of breath. He can't do that to her not any women really, not one who's running your house and bringing up your children how heartless are men? He'd never thought of what the implications of a mistress were, he saw the results daily of course but it was never real until now. The painful image of Cora's dead expression haunts him again. He can't take a mistress. Never. And certainly not when she's given her heart.

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She sits in the dressing room. Waiting. What she's waiting for she's not entirely sure. He will return, eventually. He has to, he needs to sleep. But what she's waiting for in her heart she knows will never come. She'd seen the distant look in his eyes as she'd mumbled the words against his cheek. She's felt the way his hands had gone seemingly cold on her waist. Frozen. Frozen at the mere thought of love. She could have scalded herself, she had in fact. Mention love she screamed, to an Englishman. She must have been mad, she had been. She'd ruined everything. The stormy look that flashed in his eyes as he'd turned his back on her his hand flaying for the door. Yes, their day had been marvellous and she'd finally felt as if she was ready to tie herself to this man for the rest of her life. But she'd made a mistake. A big one. A massive one. And she needed to rectify that. The only solution seemed to be to sit in wait of him.

As she sat watching the fire lick at the chimney in Robert's bedroom, or dressing room as she supposed it would be called when they married, she tried to decipher what the reasons were behind her choice earlier. What had possessed her, at that moment, to spell her heart out to him? What were the feelings that had been coursing in her blood? She gazed at the hues of orange and pink, the red merging to yellows and she tried to transport herself back to the moment the other side of the door.

The kiss she remembered all to well, it had been different. Desperate you might say but Robert was still being careful. She remembers tilting her head back in an attempt to coax his tongue deeper inside her mouth, her own lapping more passionately than it had before. His hands had been on her hips and she felt the pressure of his fingers as they rubbed. The movement of the fabric of her nightdress as it had gathered slightly beneath his fingers. Just like that she begins to unwind the turmoil she felt at that moment. Things were moving in a not unpleasant direction, just a little faster than she wished. And one emotions had dominated her thoughts more than most.

Fear.

Fear for the unknown. Her mother's words had rung in her head. It was a demon, a blanket of gloom, a duty that threatened to turn her into a mere slave to her husband's desire. It hurt. It wasn't for her to enjoy, she had a duty to him and it was easier if she was just submissive. She realised thinking about it now that as these thoughts had stormed to a meeting place her conscious mind had got lost in the gloom and her subconscious had forced three words from her mouth that she'd regretted ever since. She supposed that at the time she had forgotten Robert's inclination to keep himself away from speaking feelings. In that moment she'd forgotten that, her subconscious mind prompting her to say the words not only to steady her nerves but in the hope of making the situation easier for Robert. Surely he had to know that he could never disappoint her? It turned out that wasn't the best way to go about it.

Not that it meant she understood Robert's reaction, who had ever heard of a man that ran away from the woman whose heart he had managed to claim? What she did know was that if she was judging Robert correctly his view on a lot of things was to hide from them rather than to face them. She needed to change that and she had a feeling tonight might be the start. She didn't doubt his solution to their present situation was to call off the wedding. And that was never going to happen. Never. She'd seen a girl in America turn away from the man she had in her heart just because the gentleman in question had not been able to return the sentiment. She wasn't about the let that happen to her. A one sided love was better than no love. And she had a friend in Robert, or at least she had until the fateful moment earlier. More importantly than that though, she trusted him. Totally.

The creaking of the floorboard just passed her bedroom door rouses her from her musings and she moves from the chair to stand before the window the moonlight behind her. She sees the doorknob turn before the door pushes open. He doesn't notice her in the dark room until he lights the various candles in the room with the one he's carried up the stairs. She knows when he has noticed her because he starts, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He stands frozen by his bed. She studies the light blue of his eyes in the dark as he stares back at her until finally, finally he opens his mouth. She tilts her head in anticipation of his words only for his mouth to drop shut again his eyes delving into the depths hers. His body seemingly gives way and he falls back against the door his head tipped back and the air whistling through his mouth.


	2. Fears

AN: Just a very quick note, after this chapter I will be increasing the rating to an M, so if you haven't followed or whatever just beware of the filters, update will be Wednesday. Enjoy...

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He feels his head hit the wood of the door at the same moment the bright blue of her eyes disappears from his vision. His resolve to call off the wedding had cracked the moment he'd seen her. He wanted to bully himself into telling her now, after all it was still the best plan, a loveless marriage wasn't fair on her. But he knew she was not going to give up without a fight and right now he was not in the mood to argue with her. When his eyes begin to sting with the effort of squeezing them so tightly shut he lowers his face and matches her gaze. The moment her calculating eyes fall on his he seems to forget to filter his thoughts before speaking. His anger flares as he stares at her stood so casually against the window, did she have any idea what her words had done to him?

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologise." Her voice is so quiet after his fiery outburst and he reaches for the decanter of drink on the table in his room. Anything to steady his nerves. She's going to apologise. His mind tries to block the implications of that from his conscious thoughts but it can't. They seep through like water through a faulty pipe and eventually they over power his mind. If she apologises he can't release her from the engagement. She's trapped. He's trapped. But at that his thoughts faulter, he wouldn't really be trapped in a marriage, he'd have Cora, beautiful, desirable Cora for a wife. His anger flares again as the realisation that the marriage will be going ahead and Cora will be stuck with him, without his love for the rest of her life echoes in his mind.

"Don't you think it's a bit late to apologise? Besides, it's rather an absurd apology, when one apologises for something that is of joy to them."

"Robert. I wasn't going to apologise for loving you."

"What for then!?" The silence after his outburst is paramount and he tries to ignore the step backwards she takes. The golden liquid slides down his throat and he tosses the glass back onto the table. The alcohol seems to calm him a little and he turns to face her. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. You came to apologise for the timing of your declaration. I understand. I think we forget the whole thing ever happened and go to bed." The last words come out in a bitter tone he doesn't remember having ever used before.

"Go to bed Robert! The woman you are to marry in two days has told you she loves you and your reaction is to go to bed and forget about it?" He stares blankly at her, unable to fathom what she means. "Are you going to do this every time we disagree? Because if you are this is going to be one long marriage."

"Cora, you don't understand."

"I beg to differ. I think the issue is that I do understand. I understand from this declaration of yours to just forget it, that this marriage is unimportant to you, that you don't want to even make an attempt at happiness. Well I'll have you know that I don't care if you love me or not but I do want to try and make this work because quite honestly I think there's a high chance that it could."

"Cora, that's not what I meant. I want this marriage to work as much as you do." The words tumble from his mouth and he marvels over them for some seconds, he'd never thought of that before, but he did want it to work. He didn't want that marriage his parents have. His father always talks in private to him about what life will be like for him in three years time with a mistress and all, Robert had cringed at every word, the thought of a mistress unappealing, hurtful, a failure when Cora was at home with his children, running his house. He couldn't be that ungrateful, ever. "I just know that this is going to be difficult for me. I don't want to let you down, you love me you've given your heart freely to me for nothing in return, I have given you nothing, that is what upsets me and made me freeze up earlier." He doesn't realise his hands are in fists until she walks to him and touches his hands they immediately spring open, his thumbs running slowly over her knuckles. He doesn't look at her, just stares at her hands.

"You know that's quite the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." Her timid voice only just stretches through the small gap between them.

"That doesn't make it right Cora." He takes his hands from her and paces away from her, desperate for the distance, he's got to tell him his thoughts on their marriage. "Are you sure, absolutely sure you want to go through with this? Because I don't want to break your heart."

"What would break my heart would be if I was to live forever wondering what my life would have been like if I had married you." He looks up from the other side of the bed and sees her peering at him, her lashes lowered. "I'm rather pleased you told me of your worries though. I think that's a good start, don't you?" He nods in a numb, unsure fashion. He doesn't doubt sharing their thoughts is a good thing what he does doubt is whether they can both cope with the burden her deep feelings are going to bring.

"I'm still sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me." The slight glance she makes toward the ground as she speaks arouses Robert's suspicion.

"You do though, don't you?" She only looks at him sheepishly, a slight blush staining her cheeks.

"It was only that I was nervous." He walks right around the bed and takes her hands again, sensing her discomfort. While he looks at the top of her head, her face carefully turned to the ground, out of his vision, he thinks of how far in just the last few minutes they've come, they both want a marriage that works, that had been established and he realises that was the most important point. He had shared his fears he only hoped she would be willing to share her own.

"What were you nervous about?" Her hands knot together and Robert senses the closeness of their bodies is putting her more on edge so he takes a measured step away from her.

"Disappointing you." He barely hears the two words she utters and it takes him a moment to decipher their meaning. He takes a step towards her and takes her hands.

"Cora-" she looks up at him then, her eyes glistening with water.

"I know that in three or four years time you'll have some other women somewhere but I don't want to be a disappointment. Earlier, when you were kissing me my mother's voice rang in my mind about how that part of marriage wasn't for me to enjoy and that I shouldn't stop you from seeing other women. And then I was just nervous because, well, it's an unknown, so I thought if I said that I loved you it might elevate the stress of taking to bed a virgin." The tears role down her cheeks and Robert doesn't hesitate in encircling her waist and wiping the tears from her eyes. He realises how stupid he'd been not to realise she'd be nervous, he supposed he'd never thought of it, not because he had lots of experience, compared to a lot of men coming into marriage he had very very little, but he didn't doubt now, hearing Cora say what her mother had said that she was likely terrified, he was going to do nothing but treat her excellently, put her thoughts first but he knew that was a rarity among men and not just within his class. When the stream slows he tilts her chin so he can see her eyes clearly.

"Firstly, you could never disappoint me. I find the whole idea of a mistress disgusting when I have vowed to look after you, I'm not a man to go back on my promises and the ones I will make in two days time will be the most important ever, after all I hold your heart, I'd never forgive myself if I hurt it. And finally, your mother is wrong. You will enjoy being my wife, I promise. I wouldn't want it any other way. If you wish me not to do something you say, don't hesitate, and equally if you wish to try something, ask." He can't believe how quickly the words tumble from his heart to the air. He had meant every one of them. And somehow those promises were even more important than the ones he was to make in front of a congregation in a couple of days. They were his promises to her heart, not Cora and her family. She raises her eyes to meet his and her fingers unknot themselves to rest on the lapels of his dressing gown. When she gently presses her lips to his Robert lets her, his fingers rubbing at the waist. When she tries to part his lips he pulls slowly away. "Cora." His voice is a warning, he knows he can't let this go any further without it getting majorly out of control. She gently shakes her head from side to side, her braided hair swinging across her back.

"Please Robert." Her fingers have moved a little higher and push his dressing gown down his shoulders. His hands grip harder to her waist as her lips press insistently to his. He decides to let her have her way, perhaps it will be better, he knows he'll feel more relaxed if he's eased her nerves. Her lips part beneath his insistent tongue and they quickly fall into the situation that had found themselves in her room earlier that evening. Her dressing gown slips from her shoulders and he feels her skin cover with goose flesh as he runs his fingers along her neck. She breaks her lips from his at that point a small moan escaping into the air between them. He spies her darkened eyes beneath her lowered lashes and presses a reassuring kiss to her forehead.

"I won't hurt you." Her lashes raise and her love filled gaze meets his.

"I know and I trust you." It pleases Robert no end that she seems to want to be with him. It's better that way than to have a wife who doesn't desire her. It was funny that the problem didn't often occur the other way around, a man was always willing, and he realises now with Cora in his arms, her hands quivering in a way that showed her not to be as content as her lips were making out, that a man's willingness was utterly wrong brought on no doubt by their male dominated society mixed with the male instinct. But it was hard for women, and Cora even then was lucky, the women he mixed with were lucky, they had money and luxury, a decent roof over their heads, even if their husbands were demanding they had a lot more than most. Many women of his class had lovers with whom they could as they pleased later in life but for women of other stations with demanding husbands he couldn't fathom how they coped.

He runs his hand down her back searching for the buttons on her nightgown. When his fingers begin to fumble he feels her small giggle against his lips before she parts them, resting her forehead against his.

"The buttons are at the front." He feels himself blush when her lips press firmly against his again. It seems once Cora had a plan inside her head she was going to make it happen, and this was one of those things.


	3. Being His

AN: **So the ratings gone up, now an M** , for some sexyish times. I don't like this kind of stuff usually, but for this story I thought it was needed. This is supposed to be their emotional journey and for Cora this is a key moment. The rating will stay high for the next chapter as well and will then drop again, I think!? Hope you like it.

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Cora knows her heart pounds at a rate it never has in her diaphragm and her breathing quickens to the point where she keeps having to break her lips from his, small gasps dissipating into the air or his mouth. His hands caress slowly down her back and she can't help but giggle as his fingers go from caressing to fumbling.

"The buttons are on the front." She presses her forehead to his and his hands slowly slide around her waist to the clasps he was fumbling for a moment before. The air hits her skin as the clasps fall apart beneath his able fingers and she shivers as the chill spreads beneath her gown.

"Would you like me to stop?" She merely shakes her head as his worried gaze and furrowed brow look down at her. The shiver is followed immediately by another as the pads of his fingers smooth over the cream chemise that she wears beneath her nightgown in the winter to keep her warm. His fingers continue to unclasp her gown and she returns her gaze to his face when he pauses, buttons all unfastened. "Why is it clasped at the front?" Cora feels a smile edge at the corners of her mouth as she looks up into his quizzical gaze.

"Just a new style I was trying out. Do you like it?" She tilts her head to one side her eyebrows raised in question. She can't resist the temptation to tease him when a deep blush spreads over his cheeks. "You are allowed to comment you know, Mother persuaded me to purchase it with you in mind."

"You'd look beautiful whatever you wore." She lets her eyelashes flutter over her eyes and her gaze drops to her hands which rest on his shirt, one finger stroking one of the carved buttons. His hands massage at her waist again and she feels the fabric of her nightgown beginning to bunch just above her hips. When he hesitates at lifting it up over her head she takes her hands to his and lifts the fabric for him. She knows he is watching her as she draws the fabric above her head and over her braid. She drops the garment to the floor and is amazed by the thrill she gets from seeing his eyes roam the curves of her body now visible through the thin chemise. He takes a tentative step towards her, and when he takes her hands gently in his he kisses each of her knuckles before trailing a few kisses up her arm to her bare shoulders. She tilts her head to one side as his lips caress at her shoulders, a gasp of air breaking from her mouth. As his mouth seems to suckle more adoringly at her neck she puts her hands on his chest in an attempt to steady herself. When he finishes his ministrations a moment later she opens her eyes having closed them to enjoy the attention and finds him watching her, one of his hands still resting on her shoulder by her braided hair. "May I untie it?"

"Yes. If you wish."

"Cora, I won't if you don't wish me to." She lets a little smirk ripple at her mouth.

"You may." His fingers neatly tug at the bow at the bottom and then slowly weave each section of hair from the other. When it is all free he moves to stand behind her, pulling the hair across her back. His hands rest upon her waist again and Cora feels her heart race as his breath tickles between her hair, as the repetitive rhythm of his breathing comes closer to her she feels an unfamiliar sensation within her, somewhere she'd felt a tingling when Robert had been kissing her a few moments earlier but now it seemed to be burning, trying to eat away at her. He comes to stand before her and runs his hands over her waist again.

"You are quite the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." She drops her gaze, taken aback by his praise. She senses him coming closer before she feels his body press to hers, his finger tilting her face to meet his. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I do. You just took me by surprise, I'm not used to such praise."

"I've always found you beautiful. And then I found you funny and honest, you intrigued me. You still do." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Now, are you still sure about this?" His mood seems to change so quickly, from sweet, romantic hero to concerned fiancé, almost like a father. She nods her head, her fingers pressing more firmly at his chest, wondering what liberties she is allowed to take. By the unusual silence that stretches between them Cora knows that he is watching her, she only muses over whether the circles she's making on his chest feel as enticing as his hands on her waist. As the silence continues she becomes bold, and keeping her gaze fixed firmly on her hands she unclasps the top button of his pyjama shirt, when he doesn't stop her she reaches for the second. At each button she undoes she lets her hands grace the bare skin beneath his shirt. She's amazed at the thrill she gets from feeling his skin beneath the pads of her fingers. The burning in her stomach increases and she doesn't argue when he tilts her face to his and kisses her soundly on the lips.

Her senses seem to collide like fireworks as his tongue probes deeper in her mouth than it ever has before. His hands run over her stomach and her sides which only seems to heighten the desire burning within her. The realisation that it was a desire to be with him was one that had only just occurred to her. She presses her palms to his chest and pushes his shirt cleanly from his shoulders, he obliges her and shuffles the fabric down his arms. Her hands then continue their examination of his chest, she sweeps her hands across his muscles before trailing them down his arms, her nails taking in the curve of his elbow. Her hands seem to work without her instruction as they leave the harder skin of his fingers for his stomach. She feels the small gasp escape his mouth and enter hers when she places a hand on the waistband of his trousers and she starts at the sensation, their mouths parting.

His wide dark eyes stare down at her, she's never seen them so dark, the pupil is no longer distinguishable and in confusion she lifts her hand to his cheek, running her thumb across the corner of his eye. His eyes lighten and Cora feels her eyebrows furrow, his eyes leave their widened state and revert to their normal size.

"Something is confusing you." His voice seems a little strained and Cora merely nods.

"Your eyes, they were all dark." She sees him visibly take a deep breath.

"It's because I enjoy what you were doing. The kisses, and your hands." She thinks she smiles but when Robert merely takes her hand and sits upon the bed she's unsure. She automatically bites her lip as a thought occurs to her. Robert reaches forward from where he sits to hold her waist, his hands massaging at the waistband of her panties through her chemise. "May I?" He looks up at her, she having been lost in her own thoughts and the feel of his hands, she widens her eyes a little as if to bring herself back to reality. His hands immediately drop from her waist and she gasps.

"You can. Sorry, I was just thinking about something else and you startled me."

"If you're sure." Cora shakes her head at his continual worry. She hopes there might be a day, not to long in the future when they can do this without him having to check every move he makes with her.

"Quite sure." He pulls her slightly towards him, his hand lifting at the base of her nightgown when he suddenly stops. His face turns from the task he was doing to her gaze.

"What exactly were you thinking?" She blushes at the mere memory of the route her thoughts had taken a few moments earlier and turns her attention to the delicate patterns upon his teak wardrobe. As her appreciation of the patterns wavers she returns her attention to his unfaltering stare, her cheeks grow warm again. She places her hands in his hazelnut curls in an attempt to steady her nerves before she admits the truth to him. After all her mother had always said that only certain types of women were forward about their desires and that she should never be.

"It was only that I seem to be at a disadvantage." When he stares at her blankly she takes another steadying breath. "Only, you still have your trouser bottoms on and I am about to let you remove my panties." He merely chuckles before swiftly removing his trousers. She keeps her gaze fixed on his face as he does so unwilling to let her eyes wander any lower over his body. She feels her cheeks and neck heat up at the mere thought of doing such a thing but thankfully Robert turns his attention back to her at this moment, his hands returning to the hem of her gown.

The embarrassment she had felt earlier when she had asked Robert to remove his trousers vanishes beneath the sensations building inside her. His hands seem to trail ridiculously slowly up her legs, carefully rubbing at her thighs as he does so. When he finally reaches the waistband of her panties she murmurs his name at the feeling of his hand gracing slowly over her bottom. His hands seem to linger even longer on their return journey and she has to take her hands from his hair and grasp his shoulders to stop herself from falling over as he presses his thumb somewhere she never thought any person would ever touch her. When her panties reach the ground she absentmindedly steps out of them her thoughts far from her movements but focused entirely on the fire in her centre. It burns, and she can't seem to let it extinguish anymore.

"Cora." His velvety voices startles her from her thoughts. "Come and sit on my lap." He tugs at her waist and she moves to sit on his lap, only for him to stop her. "Sit on my lap so you may face me." She furrows her eyebrows but does as bade, her own cheeks burn as red as his and she straddles him. He bundles her nightgown at her waist before kissing her forehead. "If you wish me to stop, just ask. I wish to try this so you know what the sensation is that you should feel." She feels her forehead crinkle at his explanation and he bites his lip, in thought no doubt as he wonders how to explain his strange statement. He takes a deep breath and curls his fingers in the fabric of the bundled fabric.

"How about, you just do and we can talk about it later."

"If you're sure."

"I trust you. I-" she stops remembering the earlier outburst at the remark.

"Say it."

"I love you." His mouth meets hers and she marvels in the sensations he's able to ignite in her with just his mouth. A new, unfamiliar sensation joins it a second later and in total shock she gasps and pulls her lips from his. The probing of his fingers between her legs, swirling at her curls makes the burning ember within her blossom into a flame in seconds. He stills his finger as she pulls away from him but she meets his eyes and merely nods for him to continue. His mouth suckles and nips at her neck in a sensation she'd felt before but it's his fingers dipping inside her that make her moan in breathy gasps. When he leaves his fingers within her, the flame becomes a burning fire and she is amazed she doesn't just fall to the ground with the heat. His finger probes against her sides and she buries her face in his neck in an attempt to stifle the string of unladylike noises dissipating from her lips as his finger swirls faster and faster. She's half aware of an unfamiliar, warm moisture sticking to the inside of her thighs but her thoughts are too consumed with the rage within her to note from where they came. Her body moves against her will possessed by the unfamiliar, yet comforting fire ranging within her tiny frame and her back arches as her insides seemingly convulse around him, her breasts forced against his chest and her neck tipping backwards. It takes her some moments to regain her surroundings and when Robert appears clearly in her vision again the first thing her gaze falls upon is his eyes, the smouldering depth burning within them that she'd commented on earlier.

"Was that comfortable? Did you find it stimulating?" She can't blush at his questions as her cheeks are already stained a dark shade of pink from her exertion she merely nods, unsure if her voice has returned to her yet. As she glances down to avoid meeting his gaze her own falls upon the taunt fabric of Robert's pants and she giggles. She scolds herself a second later, Robert was being so serious, so thoughtful and she had giggled.

"What is so funny?" Of this situation she knows a little, her mother, two days ago had told her the basic mechanics of the martial bed and Cora blushing throughout had merely let her get carried away determined to get the whole things over as quickly as possible.

"Only that I imagine you're in a state of discomfort." She glances wearily at where her eyes had fallen before and she feels, rather than knows that Robert's gaze follows her.

"Which I might point out Miss Levinson is not funny, and entirely your fault." The grin that plasters his face makes Cora chuckle.

"My fault, and why is that?" She can't help but waggle her eyebrows at him and she's relived when he laughs again.

"Because you are so, utterly beautiful."

"I please you then?" The words slip from her mouth before she's thought them through. They were her worries yes, but they shouldn't be voiced to Robert.

"Very much so. And not just for your obviously beauty but inside there, in your heart, is everything that pleases me. Your laugh, and the way you say my name, the-" She doesn't know what comes over her, just the knowledge that he is fond of her perhaps, but anyhow she doesn't let him finish, her lips sought his and he gives in to her inquisitive tongue immediately, when she pushes against his shoulders he falls back onto the bed being careful to take her with him, his hands resting protectively on her waist. She returns her hands to his muscular torso and rubs her hands in repetitive circles enjoying the little sighs of encouragement that it illicits from Robert. She shuffles a little above him and blushes a little when she feels him stiffen against her. His hands still at her waist and she watches as his eyebrows knit together and his eyes shut in concentration. When he opens then again he moves his hands up beneath her chemise rubbing delicately at her stomach. When they smooth beneath her breasts the heat inside her rumbles again and she allows him to run his thumb slowly over her nipple. She sighs at the touch of his fingers there and lets him lift the sheer fabric over her head. When his eyes roam her naked body she feels the heat inside her licking away at an even more fierce rate. He rolls her onto her back moving the blankets aside so she lies on the sheet, the soft familiar feel of fabric eases the tingle of nerves that are bubbling as viciously as the fire. He appears to sense her discomfort and places a pattern of kisses along her neck to her lips and she once again loses herself in the temptations of his lips rather than her nerves. His hands join his lips in his ministrations at her breasts again and Cora feels her mind might burst as her senses seem to take control of her. She feels his stiffness rest against her stomach and she almost jumps not having noted when he'd removed his pants. The panic seems to build inside her again at an alarming rate and she stills her tongue against his.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice is hoarse and Cora notices for the first time the fast rise and fall of his chest. She nods, the fire in her centre still burning vigorously desperate for the extinguishing substance. "I'll try not to hurt you."

"That is very sweet but we both know that's not possible." A moment later he places a reassuring kiss upon her lips before lowering himself inside her. The initial feeling is pure freedom, pure ecstasy and Cora moves beneath him desperate to coax him nearer to the flames. The movements he had made with his fingers earlier had been one thing but this was quite another. She opens her eyes to see him watching her, his eyes are still darker than they were earlier and she reaches up to touch his face. Her hand is halfway to his cheek when she gasps. The fire still burns as it did before but the sensation that fills her mind now is a far less pleasant one than that desire. The sting is searing, unforgiving refusing to let up as it seems to spread within her, dampening the flames on all sides but not extinguishing them, merely circling them, driving them for her mind. The sting within her is complemented by the tears that have sprung to her eyes, she squeezes them shut desperate to hide the tears from her caring fiancé. The fiancé who had been so good as to take her through this slowly, to his own discomfort. She imagines her cover up has worked when she feels him move inside her seemingly inching closer and closer to the centre of her hearth. The stinging lessens a little but it still tinges the edge of the fire taking away the satisfactions she had felt earlier. He inches closer and closer to her centre, her desire and she wraps her legs around his middle in an inadvertent attempt to urge him deeper inside her. But just as she begins to feel the vibrations similar to earlier he fills her completely, his body slouching against her, his voice calling her name.

She parts her stinging eyelashes as his hand wanders her body and his lips press a gentle kiss to her neck. He says nothing as he lies beside her and she doesn't choose to enlighten him. She sits up a moment or two later her hands reaching for her chemise. She pulls it over her head and lays back down. The soreness of her muscles hadn't been apparent until she'd moved, not that she regretted her decision. She had enjoyed it, really and she knew that the pain of the union would be considerably less next time. The few things she was sure about was that she had pleased him; she wished to experience the sensation again and that she couldn't have done such an intimate thing with any other man. And that she knew was the key thing, enjoyment and a fulfilment of her desires each coupling would come with time, but if one couldn't trust a man with her body that would never change. She trusted Robert, she loved him and with that she turns to him again and places a gentle kiss upon his brow accompanied with a murmur of her thanks.


	4. The Morning After

AN: This chapter once more carries straight on from the last, but after that the plot line does pick up, quite quickly. This chapter is definitely still **M rated** until the line break further down, so if you don't like M stuff, skip to there and the story continues as it were.

* * *

He watches her as she recovers from their union. His hands gently stroke over her tummy but he doesn't bring himself to speak, unsure of her state of mind following their coupling. He knows his brow furrows as he watches her pull her chemise back over her head, her mouth unable to hide the grimace at the pain of movement. She sits for a further moment her mind seemingly far away and then she kisses him. Her murmur of thanks against his skin makes him start.

"What are you thanking me for? I should be thanking you."

"Hardly." She shuffles beneath the bed clothes, her fingers swirling on his chest. "You were very patient. Not many men would let a woman have her pleasure and suffer in discomfort like you did." Her cheeks stain a shade of pink he'd seen a lot in the last hour or so. He sees the logic of her reply but he can't help but think she doesn't give herself enough credit. He'd hurt her, of that he was sure and yet here she was thanking him, making him out to be a hero. A hero he certainly wasn't. He'd taken her to bed against his own better judgement, against the rules of society, but worse than all that was the fact he'd enjoyed it, found pleasure in it. The woman before him was to be his wife, and he'd found pleasure in her. His father would laugh in his face, tell him he obviously didn't know what pleasure was.

"It was a small price for me to pay to make sure you were content. I wanted to make sure you weren't afraid of me."

"I could never be that." He smiles weakly back at her. Not sure where the real Cora ends and the woman trying to be what he wants begins.

"Even so, are you sure you enjoyed yourself?"

"Did you?" He swallows back the anger flaring inside him at that remark. Those were definitely words coming from the woman who was trying to be what he wanted.

"That was not the question Cora. I want to check you enjoyed yourself."

"What would you class as enjoyment?" He bites his lip, unsure if she genuinely doesn't know what he is getting at or if she's nervous about expressing her enjoyment.

"Well, was it better than you expected? Or worse maybe? Did you like the things I did?" He watches as her cheeks stain again and she turns her face to the pillow before rolling onto her tummy, fiddling with the edge of the fabric.

"I did. And it was better than I thought. A little painful, but still very nice." She keeps her gaze firmly on the pillow. Robert can sense her uneasiness and reaches a hand to rest upon the small of her back.

"Cora. You don't need to be nervous. I'm only asking because I want to make this easier for you, more enjoyable. I told you earlier that I don't wish to have a mistress, that I don't want to break my promise to you. And that's true, but not the only reason. I find you very attractive Cora, I won't deny it and I know that if I can earn your trust and make you see the good points of being my companion in everything, my wife and my lover our marriage has a real chance." She twists her mouth from side to side her teeth digging at her lip as she digests his words. He stares blankly at the back of her head waiting for her to answer, what he'd said was true, he wished her to be an important part of his life but he knew his parents were going to be difficult towards her and that at times he'd be unable to protect her, she had to fend for herself, but in the part of marriage that was theirs he wished her to be content and if possible very happy. She eventually turns to face him, a stray droplet of water at the edge of her eye.

"It was all very nice. Enjoyable. I liked the way you kissed me, and...and the things you did with your fingers." She looks hurriedly away from him again her face blossoming into a dark pink. He shuffles closer and buries his nose against her neck. He nips once at her ear lobe with his teeth.

"And I liked the way you ran your hands over my chest." The truth was there was many things he'd never forget about the first night he and Cora had spent together. He wouldn't forget the look on her face as she'd experienced that first release, or the innocent questions she'd asked him, the blushes that appeared on her cheeks and the sound of her gasping his name were all memories that he would cherish. "And, how stunning you look naked." She twirls her face towards him even though his nose is still rubbing at her neck.

"Really?"

"Yes, quite stunning." As if to explain his point, desperate to prove to her that she is more to him than a mere way to get money for his failing estate, he trails his hands over her back and lifts her chemise so he may touch her bare skin, his hand drifts around her sides and eventually encounters the soft flesh of her breasts. "I'm not saying this is going to easy Cora. Any of it, my parents are likely to annoy you and I don't suppose we will agree on everything. But I think we have a chance and for me that starts with you believing what I say, particularly when we are like this. I'm no liar, you're beautiful, stunning, I always thought you were." The words tumble from his mouth in an almost incomprehensible jumble, but when she turns in his arms, her lips parted, fingers reaching for his hair he knows she's understood.

Her lips move possessively against his, her nails scratching at his scalp. Her legs loop effortlessly around his waist as he straddles her body. He can't get over how much she appears to desire being with him. He fumbles with her chemise for a second before she laughs and lifts it swiftly over her face. Her head falls back onto the pillow with a sigh as he brings his lips to her breasts, his tongue swirling across the peaks. His arousal stiffens when her fingers trail over his chest, they hesitate a little at his abdomen before they brush lightly over him, a blush flowers on her cheeks. She strokes her finger more roughly as she watches his face, which Robert doesn't doubt shows a strained expression as he tries to keep in control of himself. When her thumb rubs the tip firmly he has to take her hand and still her movements, her brow crinkles and her eyes narrow.

"Did you not like that?"

"I did Cora, very much, that was the problem." She nods, an understanding shown on her face. He massages the backs of her thighs having assumed they might be a little sore from earlier, when she sighs he brings his lips to hers again.

It isn't long before he gets so absorbed in their kissing, and the feel of her fingers on his body that he feels himself slowly losing control. Her hips lift every few moments, and her feet dig against his buttocks as she seemingly tries to coax him inside her.

"Robert, please." The desire in her voice makes him open his eyes, only to find her watching him, he opens his mouth to ask her permission anyway and she nods before he speaks, as if anticipating him. He pauses taking in her face and the swirl her hair makes on the pillow. She was just so beautiful, and she desired him, him above all those other men, this wonderful woman wanted to spend her life with him. He lowers himself inside of her and he's pleased when she murmurs his name, her eyes closing in contentment, rather than the pain that had caused them to squeeze together the first time.

This time is different, whether it's because the worry that had consumed him the first time as she'd tried to hide her pain is not there, or whether it is simply because she is moving with him, her hips pushing upwards into his, sounds of pleasure whistling through her open mouth; whatever it is, it's different, better. Not that he thought the first time had been bad, it had been far from that, he'd just wished he hadn't had to hurt her. His pace quickens above her, and Robert feels the beginnings of her climax as her walls begin to shake around him. Ignoring his own burning desire he bites his lip in concentration desperate to make sure she climaxes with him this time. Her body arches against his soon after, a moan of satisfaction echoing in the sticky air; he joins her a split second later.

They lay together, watching each other for some time, the air stills but the humidity remains but somehow neither of them wish to open the window, the hot air no different from their clammy skin.

"Would you like me to return to my room." Robert shakes his head, this time, and only this time, he vows to himself will he allow himself the liberty of sleeping by her side. Her eyes drift shut and Robert watches as she falls into a peaceful slumber. The sight is quite extraordinary, watching her sleep, her mind obviously at rest gives him a thrill he'd never felt. He knows he shouldn't be surprised the whole evening had given him a thrill he hadn't expected when it had begun. The hands on his body, her hot lips on his skin, they were things he'd dreamed of and now they were a reality, he couldn't quite believe it. But somehow above all those things, above seeing her naked, something he never expected would happen, his father had told him was to be the joy of a mistress not a wife, it was watching her sleep that made his heart quicken in something other than desire. The liberty of watching her sleep could perhaps be extended through their honeymoon? With this question being swirled around his mind, he also fell into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

His hand presses something warm, soft, as the birds begin to tweet outside the window, the panel frosted over with the February chill. His eyes startle apart at the feel of the flesh that's not his own. The sight before shocks him for a moment until the night before comes flooding back, the fight, the burning flames and then Cora. He surveys the curve of her nose, the long, elegant strands that are her eyelashes. The parting of her lips as she breaths slowly in and out. Her flesh remains beneath his fingers, his hand unwilling to move from its creamy texture. She stirs as he swirls his finger across her stomach, his other hand reaching into the curls of her raven dark hair. With the sunlight rising behind him, flashes of it illuminating her skin he can't believe that she could possibly look more stunning than she had the night before. Her eyelids flutter open and she regards him, slowly, calculating, as if assessing his mood before she reaches forward and swirls a stray curl of his hair around her finger before pushing it back to lie atop his head. Her touch is feather light, her soft skin gracing only the surface of his forehead. When she retracts her hand he encircles her wrist with his own fingers and lifting her hand to his mouth, he kisses her palm, his tongue dancing over the lines that some would say mark her life. He glances up to meet her eyes and is pleased to see her smiling, her eyes shining. He releases her hand in favour of her lips, dropping a chaste kiss to them as he admires her still laying form.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you. Although my bed next door is more comfortable than this one." He chuckles, and runs his hand over her stomach beneath the sheets.

"That's good, seeing as most of the time, all of the time I imagine, we shall be together in your room." He says the words before he's thought them through and hurriedly speaks again when a blossom of pink spreads across her face. "Only if you want me of course. I won't force you." She shakes her head from side to side and reaches up to stroke his cheek.

"Of course I want you, don't you ever ask me again. I was only going to say, that I look forward to the occasion." A blush covers his own cheeks this time and he captures her lips with his. He gets so lost in her lips that he doesn't hear the familiar creak of the floorboard outside his dressing room before the door swings open and his valet stands in the doorway, his face a beetroot pink.

"I'm ever so sorry m'Lord."

"I don't believe I have rung for you yet this morning Peters. What on earth are you doing here?" His voice bounces of the wall as she shouts at the man before him. It wasn't that he was that bothered but it was hardly fair on Cora.

"Robert," Her tiny hand reaches up to rest upon his shoulder and he turns his burning eyes to her. "I'm sure Peters was just worried that you hadn't called." Robert closes his eyes, desperate to regain his control.

"I'm sorry Peters for my outburst. But I warn you, things are likely to change now I am to be married and I will desire you to wait until I call."

"Very good m'lord."

"And if I hear gossip among the servants or if you are stupid enough to mention this to Lord and Lady Grantham there will be trouble. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly m'lord." The gentleman leaves and Robert flops back onto the pillow, Cora's face appears above him a second later.

"It appears I'm going to need a new valet." Her brow furrows.

"He made a mistake. I'm sure he won't do it again, you were rather terrifying!" She laughs and he can't help but let his hand wander to rest against her stomach.

"Do you like me angry?" She blushes a little and when she blushes he simply kisses her nose, her blush a perfect answer. "It's not that. I've been convinced for a while that Papa has been getting the man to spy on me and report what I do. I'm afraid it could result in a sticky situation at breakfast for both of us."

"Well. We will go down together and support the choice we made." He smiles a tiny sigh rushing from his mouth.

"You are quite amazing." He punctuates each word with a gentle kiss to her lips.

The next ten minutes or so pass in a rush as he changes, not bothering to call for Peters. He exits his dressing room into the hall and waits outside Cora's door. She emerges some time later, her hair carefully coiffed upon her head and her corset tightened to what Robert can only imagine as being very uncomfortable. They walk down the stairs in silence the gentle swish of her dress the only sound. At the bottom step he slips his hand into hers, why he doesn't know, to prove to her he will protect her perhaps. She squeezes his hand and they walk to the dining room. They've barely made it through the door when his own parents and Cora's mother swivel to face him. He doesn't comment on his mother's unusual appearance at breakfast, Peters had been gossiping, obviously.

"Ah, so you have decided to grace us with your presence and in your clothes. Splendid." His mother's shrill voice cuts through the room, rather than reply he walks Cora around the table and after kissing her palm and whispering his command to 'ignore them,' into her ear he proceeds to serve her breakfast.


	5. Reflection

AN: Yes, this update is early, a whole day early, but I have one hell of a day tomorrow and if I didn't do it now, well, you wouldn't get it!

Firstly thanks for all the reviews. Secondly, it's a general assumption in the Cobeet fandom that Patrick(if he even was a Patrick) is far more open towards Cora than Violet, I've rather changed that here, which comes out in this chapter and is explored through the first half, at least, of the story. This chapter does once again, carry straight on from the last. And there's a mini Violet/Patrick sub plot on its way, that's hinted at here, but more about that another time. Hope you enjoy...

* * *

Cora keeps her gaze fixed on her lap as Robert diligently works at the sideboard, piling her plate with far more food that she can possibly manage. Her mother sits across from her, eyeing her surreptitiously. Her soon to be mother-in-law has her lips pressed into firm line, her eyebrows knitted together and her hawk like eyes watching her every move. Robert's father remains behind his newspaper muttering about too many women and too much gossip. Robert returns to her side and places the plate in front of her, the vast stack of food looks threatening but when her stomach rumbles softly she realises that perhaps she's in need of a little food, as the reasons for her hunger flash across her mind she quickly picks up her cutlery to hide her blush.

"I think I've got everything you like, but if there's something missing...?"

"No, no, thank you Robert it's absolutely perfect." She digs her fork into the first sausage before two slices of bacon quickly join them, Robert now sat beside her, his own gaze fixed on his plate.

"So, how exactly did the scene Peters so eloquently described to me of the state of your dressing room come about Robert? I really would love to hear the story."

"I'm sure you would Mama but I'm afraid my lips are sealed."

"We are amongst family Robert." Cora jumps as Robert's cutlery slams down on the plate in front of him. Patrick seems to materialise from behind his paper, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

"I don't care what company we are amongst. The private relations between Cora and I are between Cora and I. I wish for nobody else to be prying into them. If either of us wish for assistance or want to speak to one of you we shall ask for it." Cora feels her heart skip at his words, so he really was going to defend her as he'd promised before they'd descended for breakfast. Violet noting the disapproval of her son turns her attention to Cora's mother and Cora takes a steadying breath, waiting for Violet's retort. She is sure that she and Robert are not going to get off lightly for what they have done.

"Of course, this is all your fault. If only you had a better hold upon your daughter this would not have happened but she's been bought up to flutter her eyelashes, simpering and smirking to all-"

"Mother! I beg you do not speak to Mrs Levinson like that, and that you certainly refrain from being rude about Cora. She is to be my wife, your daughter-in-law. The mother of your grandchildren. I suggest you change your tune." He throws his napkin to the table and walks to the door. "Besides, it was me that initiated the proceedings." Cora opens her mouth to deny Robert's answer but her eyes meet his calculating ones and she thinks better of her decision. Her jaw goes slack and she stares into her lap.

"Just a minute son." Patrick's calm voice cuts through the bickering that continues between the respective mother's despite Robert's outburst. "I won't ask you to apologise to your mother as I know you will refuse to do so. But, I will ask that you remain with Miss Levinson for breakfast. She may need the support of her fiancé and _lover_ against your mothers. Don't you think Miss Levinson?" The way Patrick drawls over the word 'lover' in a disapproving tone cuts to Cora's bones more than the remarks of his wife. She merely nods and is pleased when Robert returns to her side, his hand pressing hers. Her stomach still rumbles but her appetite is gone and she stares at the plate.

"I'm sorry I was rude Miss Levinson...Cora. Robert is correct in saying that the business is entirely yours." Violet's calm voice and the narrowed look she gives her husband makes Cora nod meekly in acknowledgment of her sentiment, not that she thinks the women really means it, she only wishes to undermine her husband. The fact Lord and Lady Grantham were not happy had not escaped Cora's notice. The fact that the man spends half his week in London with a mistress was not unknown to her either.

"Besides, I'm not entirely sure why we're discussing the nocturnal adventures of the young pair. The sole reason we're really here is to sort the money Miss Levinson will exchange for the title she so desires. That's the long and the short of it." Patrick speaks as though his wife never interrupted him. Cora feels the sausage and bacon swirl uncomfortably in her stomach and she swallows back the bile that jumps into her throat. The eyes begin to sting even more ferociously than they had the night before and she stands from the table.

"If you'll excuse me." She speaks so quietly she's amazed anyone has heard but Robert lifts his face and she feels the gentle scrape of his chair as he follows her out. She wishes he wouldn't. She'd really rather be alone. The dining room was filled with traitors, all Robert and his parents wanted was her money. All her mother wanted was a title for her daughter. Cora didn't want any of that, she wished only to be loved or at the very least respected. She had thought Robert respected her, he had last night but suddenly despite the fact he was following her, calling for her, she wondered if it was just an act. That really he was as vile as his father, as wanting and as rude. She breaks into a run, desperate to open the gap between them.

As she runs outside, the big expanse of freshly manicured lawn before her, lawn that in a few days her father will be paying to have cut. His heavy steps persist behind her accompanied with the calls of her name but she doesn't turn. Her vision clouds with tears and she eventually has to slow her run, the hem of her dressing catching on her heels mixed with her tear filled vision heading only for disaster. She makes it to the bench where she simply falls down. Water courses down her face as Robert appears beside her. When he attempts to wrap an arm around her she pulls away.

"Robert, please, I'd rather be alone." She hopes somewhere deep inside her that he will think better of that remark and stay but his arm slips from her shoulder and through her clouded vision she sees him walk back across the lawn, his hand digging at his hair with anxiety.

* * *

When he enters the dining room, Martha and his mother are talking in loud voices about 'chaperoning' and whether they should 'go after them.' The anger that he feels towards his father rebounds around the room, every single one of the occupants having something against him.

"Going after us won't be necessary Mama. Cora is on the bench in the garden. I wonder if you would go to her Mrs Levinson. She's rather distraught and didn't wish for my company." Martha rises and walks past him, she briefly touches Robert's arm and he inclines his head. It seemed Martha at least did not hold a total grudge against him. "And Mama-"

"I'm just going. I thought Cora might like some lemon drizzle cake I think she rather likes it, I will wander to the kitchens and ask for some." Robert watches in astonishment as his mother walks past him a determination in her step. It doesn't quench the anger rising up inside of him, and when his father buries his nose in the newspaper once more Robert's mouth seemingly disengages from his brain. His hands snatch the paper from his hands and toss it to the floor. "How dare you! How dare you speak to Cora like that. She's a person, with feelings not an object for you to use for writing cheques."

"Robert, I don't think you comprehend-"

"Your financial ruin? I think I do, I'm the one that's having to solve the problem or had you forgotten that? I don't see you changing your ways, you still traipse to London to see that mistress of yours."

"Robert, I fail to understand your point."

"My point is Cora is giving far more to this marriage than any other person here."

"If you mean she's giving her father's money then-"

"Her heart Papa. She loves me." Robert watches as his fathers eyes drop to his lap. "I am giving her nothing except this house and you persist on treating her like you did this morning. It's to stop, immediately."

"Anyone would think you were the one that's given your heart with the way you defend her." Robert takes a deep breath as his father stands, Walters, the Butler, entering the room. "I'll attempt to treat her better Robert. But you can't blame me entirely when you have something I have never had. The woman you admire loves you." With those startling and confusing words his father leaves the room. Who on earth was his father speaking of? Not his mother, surely? He slumps into the vacated chair only distantly aware of the elderly butler asking him if he wants anything. He shakes his head, but as the butler retreats he remembers how the whole morning started.

"Actually Walters. Peters is to leave, give him a decent reference but I want him gone."

"Very good m'lord." The hint of a smile on the Butlers lips tells Robert that the Butler at least agrees with the decision.

* * *

She doesn't hear her mother approaching behind her until the bench dips beside her and the bright red frock her mother had donned that morning slips into her vision. In an act of strange affection her mother wraps an arm around her shoulders pulling her wet cheeks against her shoulder.

"It's alright my darling girl. Robert will defend you."

"That's the point Mama, he won't. He just let Lord Grantham carry on, only following me once I'd gone." She dissolves against her mother again.

"That's not true. He's speaking with his father now." Cora feels herself relax a little. So Robert was defending her. "He was very angry when he came back inside. It seems he doesn't wish his fiancée unhappy."

"But..." She glances up into her mother's affectionate gaze unsure if she should voice her concerns. "What if he ends up like his father, with a mistress and-"

"Cora, Robert is not like his father. Besides, by the mere fact that he awoke beside you this morning told me he cares for you. Most men would have left after. Well...you know." Cora nods, her tears finally stilling as she thinks back to the night before; Robert vowing he would never have a mistress. Her mother was right, he isn't like his father. They sit in contemplative silence for a few moments as Cora muses over her worry and Martha watches her intently. "So, how was last night? Did you enjoy it?" Cora feels her cheeks warm and she studies the tips of her shoes that peer through the hem of her skirt.

"It was fine."

"Cora," her mother shuffles to the front of the bench so she can face her. "I'm your mother. You can tell me these things."

"I did enjoy it, very much. I know you said I shouldn't but-"

"I was preparing you for the worst possible outcome."

"Anyway, Robert was very touching. Excessively kind and thoughtful of my feelings. He told me I only had to tell him to stop and he'd do so if I didn't like something he was doing."

"And did you tell him to stop?" Cora looks away from her mother, a blush spreading from beneath her collar. "I won't press you to tell me anymore. I just wanted to check you were happy with the whole thing. In many ways I'm pleased it happened before the wedding and before that blasted pre-nuptial is signed that way you could have retracted if you wished to."

"Mama! I hardly think that would have been wise what would everyone have thought of me?"

"I don't care. It's better to be content than permanently unhappy."

"I never knew you felt like that."

"Your father and I are very happy and whatever I may present about wanting you to be grand. I do wish you happy Cora." She stares at her mother, the woman she'd never understood suddenly materialising before her eyes. She reaches forward and kisses her lightly powdered cheek.

When she look out across the grounds a second later, movement behind her stirs her attention and she sees Robert's mother walking to wards them.

"Ah here you are. There's tea and lemon drizzle cake in the drawing room Cora. I thought that might help." She glances at her mother in astonishment.

"Yes, yes. I'm sure it might."

"Don't look so shocked dear. I'm not as harsh as I may appear. I hope you'll learn that soon. I only wish to teach you the proper ways." Cora merely nods before taking her mother's arm. The three women walk peacefully back to the house each joking about men and silly remarks. Cora breathes a sigh of slight relief, it seems that in time she may have an ally in at least Robert's mother but she knows it will take time, lots of time.


	6. Family

Cora twirled continually in her bedroom. The white lace fabric was heavy at the ankles, the train seemingly stuck with glue to the floor. Her corset seemed tighter than usual and she vowed that in the morning she'd make sure her maid strung it looser. To pass out in the church would be one way to make the papers, and not the way she would prefer.

She blocked out the enthusiastic claps and comments from her mother and Robert's. Her thoughts lingering on the only person to whom it all really mattered. Robert. If he didn't like it she saw little point. Not that she was to know if he did until the church tomorrow. Her heart seemed to speed up at the realisation that it was tomorrow. Tomorrow she was going to become his wife, in the eyes of the law at least. She supposed that really she was already his wife, that really the white dress was no longer a true reflection of her. She wasn't pure, or chaste. Not now. That didn't mean she regretted it, goodness no, she was if she was honest looking forward to the honeymoon. Time alone to get to know Robert better, to understand him and his desires, as well as her own. She blushes at the thoughts, the memory of Robert slipping into her bedroom last night and kissing her goodnight. He didn't stay too long, just long enough to explain in a nervous voice that he was looking forward to taking her travelling. He hadn't elaborated, refusing point blank to tell her where they were going to spend the month they'd been assigned for the journey.

"Cora." From the tone of her mother's voice Cora assumes they have been trying to call her to attention for some time. She spins back around to face they, almost toppling when the train hinders her movement, wrapping around the hem of the voluminous gown.

"I was distracted sorry."

"We could tell. The veil." Violet's curt reply causes Cora to look away, searching for her maids assistance. The girl, already prepared, hands her the required object. The site of a tiara in her other hand catches Cora's attention. Violet appears to see her confusion and offers an explanation. "It's one from the Grantham collection. Every bride has worn it on their wedding day."

"But I am not a Crawley bride."

"No. But it's a favourites of Robert's; he asked me to make sure you wore it. Something about it being a wedding gift from him. It's his favourite from the collection and he wishes it to be your tiara, no longer the collections. He said the small blue jewels reminded him of you." Cora studies the tiara with a renewed interest, if Robert had picked it for her it meant he'd been thinking about the wedding, about their future. She sits before the mirror, carefully to pull all her skirt to one side while her maid adjusts the delicate object upon her head, the veil secured beneath it. Some time passes and Cora lets her mind wander back to the events planned for the last twenty fours hours or so until the wedding. She knew that at six o'clock she and Robert were to be separated, he was to stay the night with his grandmother at the Dower house and that she wasn't going to see him until the church. The prospect hadn't worried her before now, but she's grown accustomed to him peaking through the dressing room door and wishing her goodnight. Her maid steps away from her hair and Cora stands again pulling the veil straight at the back.

"Beautiful." It's her mother's voice that makes her jump this time and she looks up, embarrassed.

"Really?"

"Of course." It's Violet's voice this time. "Robert made the right decision with that tiara it completes the look perfectly. You look wonderful Miss Levinson." Cora looks away at the praise and barely notes Violet leaving the room with a mention of 'a few things to sort out.' Her mother follows a second later announcing that they'll try the travelling dress on when her father arrives. Cora smiles at the reminder of her father. He'd had to return to America a couple of months ago to sort some business and finally, today he was returning just in time for the wedding. It was a relief to Cora, she was fond of her father, very fond. She always was her daddy's little girl and he in turn called her his princess. The only issue that surrounded her father's return was that Harold was accompanying him. It wasn't that she disliked her brother, rather that he hated anywhere that wasn't America and was therefore likely to increase the tension in the already charged environment.

A knock sounds at the door and it swings open, Rosamund peers her head around.

"I'm not interrupting am I?"

"No. I'm just being struggled from this frock." At the moment the fabric pools at her feet and her maid reaches tentatively for the garment as she steps out of it laying it flat upon the bed before reaching for Cora's corset.

"Actually, I'll do that." Rosamund has strode across the room and speaks to the maid, resting her hand on Cora's back and depositing the packet she carried upon the dresser. The maid exits the room and then Rosamund moves to face Cora her hands grabbing at the package, an eager brilliance in her eyes. "It's something blue, and new. Don't open it now. But, make sure you wear it tomorrow."

"You worry me slightly Rosamund." The grin that alights her soon to be sister-in-law's face makes Cora's stomach flip, what on earth has she got planned?

"Just promise me you will. Robert will like it." Cora nods and she watches in amazement as Rosamund squeals with excitement and spins on the spot before skipping like a little girl to the door. It amazes Cora that this woman is older than her, engaged to me married and yet she's seems so young, not a care in the world.

"Rosamund," the woman spins on the spot, another curl of marmalade hair escaping from her coif. "Thank you for the gift, whatever it is. And I'm sorry that your wedding has had to be postponed. Your engagement is becoming rather long."

"Don't worry. Marmaduke and I are perfectly happy to wait for your return from honeymoon. Besides, I want a summer wedding. Anyway, who wants to see me marry a banker, people much prefer an English Lord and a stunning American heiress." Cora chuckles. "It's not like I'm missing anything by not being married." Cora feels her cheeks blush as she remembers the sensations of two nights ago. She looks back up to the face of her companion, ready to lie, only to be met with a giggling Rosamund. "It seems no Crawley can stick to waiting until after the wedding." She dives from the room leaving Cora in shock. She only hoped Rosamund would be careful, if she fell pregnant that could put a hindrance to her dreams of a summer wedding.

She snatches the lid from the carefully gifted wrapped box left upon her dresser, curiosity getting the better of her. What she finds inside is not at all what she expected. On second thoughts she realises that perhaps it is. The garter is pale blue with white lace and Cora is pleasantly surprised at the coincidence of it being the exact colour of her travelling ensemble. It seemed her mother's tongue had been wagging. She daren't think of how Rosamund had known where to purchase such a garment, she had it which was all that effected Cora.

She gets so caught up in admiring her thoughts that when the clock on the gallery strikes one o'clock she jumps and dives across the room to the bell pull. It was luncheon and she wasn't even half dressed and father and Harold were arriving at two. The garter and Rosamund are long forgotten in the face of the prospect of seeing her dearest Pa.

* * *

His morning had been a slow burning nightmare. His father had talked of nothing but signing the pre-nuptial as soon as Mr Levinson arrived and Robert, having no other refuge, as the ladies were indulging in the delights of his bride had sat through the same words for hours. It had been the most pleasant relief when luncheon had been served and Cora had made him chuckle when she'd hurried in late, a warm glow upon her cheeks. It was a wonderful luncheon, the ladies teasing Robert about how pretty his bride was in her dress and Rosamund speaking of a mystery present. They'd laughed and smiled and now, as they headed out to meet her father and brother he wanted one last moment with her. He reaches out and touches her fingers as they walk towards the front door, she turns slightly but doesn't stop walking so he takes her hand.

"Look at me." She obliges his whispered command. He pulls her gently into the doorway of the library. A quizzical look is buried in her eyes. "I just wanted you alone for a second, we haven't spoken alone since last night."

"Is that a problem?" He stares at her, a problem? It wasn't so much of a problem as somehow strange, he'd got used to sitting with her, laughing with her and he'd missed those sensations.

"I just hoped you were alright. Mama didn't upset you this morning?" She shakes her head. "Good. I'll be pleased when we're on our way to London tomorrow." He watches her cheeks illuminate to a pleasant pink before she reaches up and plants a chaste kiss upon his lips.

"So will I." She takes his hand then and they walk from the doorway to their waiting family; just in time to see the carriage slow to a stop. Mr Levinson descends from the carriage followed by a man younger than Robert himself, Harold Levinson. Cora's father walks to his wife, kissing her impressively on the lips; Robert looks away only to find Cora watching him a grin on her face. Her father approaches her next, kissing her delicately on the cheek and a quiet whisper of 'afternoon Princess' seemingly only meant for Cora's ears. His facial expression changes as he turns his attention to Robert. The anger can quite easily be seen by the tensing of his jaw and the judgement in his eyes.

"Lord Downton. I hope you've been taking care of my daughter."

"Indeed Sir. I intend to make it my life's work." The older man smiles at him a glimmer of appreciation spreading in his pupils.

"Robert, don't be ridiculous. Downton will be your life's work." His own father's icy glare accompanies his words before he spins on his heels and walks inside. Robert feels his blood boil and his hands fist at his sides.

"Mr Levinson. I do apologise for my husband. He didn't mean what he just said. I imagine you're tired after your journey. There's some refreshment in the library and plenty of time to talk with your daughter." Robert takes a steadying breath as his mother defuses the situation and Mrs Levinson quickly links her arm in her husband's. Rosamund and Harold enter the house behind them, the grandeur of the abbey and the collection of unfamiliar faces causes him a confusion evident on his face. His sister obviously says something to soothe his frayed nerves as he laughs causing Cora to glance worrying in their direction. Her hand presses against his elbow a second later.

"Pa likes you."

"In not so sure Cora. I can tell he is judging me. To check I'm good enough for his wonderful daughter. I imagine he finds I'm lacking, I know I think I am."

"Don't ever say that again. I've made my choice and I refuse to reverse it. And Pa does like you, he likes what you said when you said I'd be your life's work I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes." Robert doesn't answer, he thinks that as much as Mr Levinson may have liked his comment it was quickly crushed by his father's. Robert feels the anger flare within him again at the mere thought of his father's comments, he really was going to have to try and get him under control; for Cora's sake.

* * *

Tea and cake all eaten she sits before the table, pen in hand three men watching intently as she signs her name upon the line. As she signs her life and all her fortune to the man she loves, the man who doesn't love her back. She brushes the concern from her mind as the paper is snatched from beneath her still quivering hand. The gentleman in question turns away flapping the pre-nuptial in the air to dry the ink, only succeeding to look like he's flapping wads of money. The other two stare at her intently, one with a bemused expression on his face, the other shows the expression of a man that knows her well, that at that very moment knows most of the things she is thinking. It's looking up into that face, seeing the sadness that makes the water prick in her eyes and causes her to stand, her sticky hands running anxiously at her perfectly smooth skirt. She doesn't say anything as she leaves the room, but then neither do they. She'd never thought about the big things, the things she should have thought about. She had spent so long away from America that the thought of leaving it wasn't too much of a problem, she preferred England if anything. She had no qualms about leaving her mother, or her brother, she'd never got on particularly well with either of them. But Pa. she'd forgotten about him. In the journey of emotions that had included falling in love with a man she was sure she was going to be happy with. She'd forgotten about the most important person. That look in his eyes had hammered it home. It wasn't a look of disappointment, he wasn't angry at what she had chosen to do. It was loss that radiated from his eyes, watching his daughter sign herself away to another man. She was leaving him, out of choice. She had chosen to live on the other side of an ocean, out of choice.

"Cora, wait." It's her father's voice. His voice. Calling her name, asking her to come to him for what could be the last time. She begs herself not to turn and instead keeps her feet working beneath her, forcing her up the stairs, along the corridor and to the room assigned to her. She collapses upon the bed, the tears falling freely down her cheeks. The mattress dips a second later, his fingers trailing in the escaping curls of her hair, just as he had when she was a child. She calms some time later, her father still lays on the bed beside her. He helps her sit up before staring imploring into her eyes.

"It's not too late Cora. There's still time for you to say no."

"No...I mean, I want to marry Robert." Her father merely nods, his gaze breaking from hers, his head bowing in his sadness. "I love him Pa. you know what that feels like." He still doesn't look at her, his eyes focused solely on his lap. "I'll never forgive myself if I don't marry him."

"As long as you're sure. Not that it's Robert I have anything against. But his parents..."

"I'm sure I'll learn to cope. I've coped with Ma." Her father chuckles at that and takes her hand as he stands.

"As long as you bear in mind there's still a chance to say no. Even after the vows, if you don't consummate the marriage it can still be disintegrated." Cora looks at her lap this time, a blush warming her cheeks.

"Not in this situation Pa. Technically I'm already his wife in everything but the vows." The thunder that covers her father's face is like nothing she's ever seen before.

"What do you mean 'everything but the vows!?' Are you telling me Cora that you and Robert have...have..."

"Yes Pa, but please don't be angry."

"I'm not. I'm passed angry. How dare Robert do such a thing. How dare he!? What on earth was he thinking!? Where is he!?" He turns for the door then but Cora grabs at his arm, her fingers digging through the fabric of his jacket into his skin as tears surge down her cheeks once more.

"Pa. Please...no. It...he didn't force me, it wasn't even even his idea...it just happened. I upset him and then we had a argument. All these feelings seemed to pour from me. About how I was nervous about my wedding night and then..."

"Ssh, my princess." His hand runs over her back and she buries her face in his neck, the familiar scent of him overwhelming her senses. "I won't hurt him, as long as he didn't hurt you?"

"No. Not at all. He was very patient and told me he wouldn't do anything I didn't like." He drops a kiss to her head as her tears finally slow.

"Well, that's the most important thing, that and that you're happy."

"I am." He lets go of her then, and kissing her gently on the forehead turns to the door. The first tear in his eye doesn't escape Cora's notice and she takes a steadying breath. She loved her Pa, she really did, but there comes a time in life when a woman finds another man, a man to look after her when her Pa is gone and for her she knew that time had arrived. She was Robert's now.


	7. Wedding

He'd wandered through the crowds outside the church without a backwards glance. He'd walked up the aisle without a backwards glance. He'd sat staring at the alter for what felt like hours, it had only been twenty minutes. He doesn't really remember getting dressed, or eating breakfast but now, as he hears various gasps behind him as his bride enters the church and he spies the grin on the vicar's face he turns around and those memories of the morning, even if he could remember them would have been banished to the deepest corners of his mind. Cora looks magnificent. The corseted body of the dress emphasises the perfect curves Robert knows her tiny frame has without making her waist look ridiculously small. The sleeves stop just below her elbow, leaving her slender wrists for his examination. The front panel of the dress is ruffled as was the current style, the rest of the fabric flowing straight to the floor. The skirt has a small train that he can see, with the ruffles from the front panel repeated on the sides. But it's the veil that captures his attention. Made of a thin gauze like material studded with dried roses he can see the outline of her face beneath it, the dark raven curls clearly visible. It flows down her back to the floor, extending further than her dress; the tiara he specifically asked for her to wear holds it atop her head.

He knows he stares, he only hopes his mouth doesn't hang open. The mumbles of appreciation fade around him and then she's standing next to him, her father's gaze fixed squarely on the vicar. He opens his mouth to say what he so desires to say only for it to fall shut again, the words getting stuck in his throat. He can feel her eyes on him, the tiara tilted in his direction.

"Will I do?" Her voice is quiet, a whisper, the fabric of the veil barely moves as the vibrations of her voice hit it, yet he's convinced people at the back of the church will have heard her. Anger seems to flare within him at her words; he can't understand why she doesn't think herself worthy of him, in all reality the fault lies the other way. "Only I imagine your mother, and possibly even your father would love you to walk away and leave me standing here." He can't tell if her statement is sincere or if she's reading him, without her eyes in his vision it's impossible to tell.

"You look stunning." He hopes she blushes, but the veil, the item he'd admired so much a moment before is beginning to get on his nerves, once again obscuring his vision, he wants to see her face, her eyes. "And as for my parents. It's not their life, their marriage, it's mine. And I want you as my wife Cora, I want you in my life." He catches the grin that threatens to envelope her father's face and the vicar arches an eyebrow before bringing the congregation to attention.

The first part of the vows pass in a blur, he dimly registers that nobody raises an objection to the wedding. Her father removes her veil and he finally sees her face. Her eyes shine up at him, her lashes perfectly long masking her piercing blue eyes. He swallows the gasp that forms in his throat at the sight of her beautiful face. They repeat the vows that Robert had sworn only a few hours before he was going to listen and remember in great detail, if only in an attempt to honour them. In the moment he doesn't, he barely pays attention to whether he says her name correctly, he seems to lose himself in the depth of her eyes, in the twinkle of love he sees in them. The vicar calls for the rings and Robert dimly registers repeating his oath after the vicar as he holds the ring upon her finger. Her hand is sweaty in his palm and it is with some difficulty that he finally pushes the ring onto her finger.

At the meeting with the vicar a month or so ago he and Cora had jointly decided to forgo kissing each other in church, but as he stands there next to her, next to the woman who is now his wife he becomes filled with a desire to reach down and kiss her, to feel the softness of her lips against his own. She slips her hand into his, as they proceed to sign the certificate, their parents close at their heels he craves still further the thought of her lips.

As they enter the cool room in which they will formally unite themselves together Robert can't help but wonder at the irony of it all. She loved him and had done the most intimate thing he would ever require of her. The piece of paper meant very little in the grand scheme of their marriage. For the law he supposed the certificate was important, it would prove he and Cora were married but it proved no more. Nowhere on it did it tell you how to be married, how to make a marriage successful, it was as useful as a glass hammer.

"Are you alright?" Her quiet whisper only just floats to his ear and he merely nods, not trusting himself to speak in case the opening of his mouth makes him place it to hers as he so craves. "Only you seem distracted."

"It was you. You were distracting me. You look so stunning Cora and I fear I don't deserve you."

"Marriage isn't about deserving someone. It's about working with them, building a life with them. And I think you and I can manage that."

"Do you never doubt?"

"Why would I when I am marrying the catch of the season." He can't help but laugh at her terrible English accent and her dry humour.

They sign the certificate, he leans over as she swirls her elegant hand upon the page and she giggles when he mumbles about his grubby scrawl as if nobody else is present in the room. It seems perfectly natural when he kisses the golden band upon her finger in front of their parents before dismissing them. The need to be with only Cora for a minute bubbling from deep within him.

"Why have you sent them away?" Her eyes twinkle in their alluring way and Robert steps towards her, his hands taking hers.

"Because, I wish to kiss you, if you'll let me Mrs Crawley." A delightful blush blossoms across her cheeks and Robert taking this as an affirmative presses his lips gently to hers only for them to part immediately, her tongue twirling against his waiting one. He indulges her for a moment before parting their contact at the sound of the melody starting up in the church. He holds out his arm to her and they return to their waiting guests.

* * *

As Cora steps back outside the church that she had entered not so long ago as Miss Levinson she can't help but marvel at the blue patches that appear through the clouded sky. She wonders if they somehow reflect her mood. She'd entered the church with her father on her arm sure of everything, ready to be content with a one sided love for the rest of her life. Yet, as she exits, with the man she loves clutching at her hand she wonders if she might still have a chance at his love. The way he looked at her as he'd first met her gaze. She'd seen his jaw slack slightly before he regained control of himself and she was pleased that she'd been able to have that effect on him. Not that he'd been the only one with a slack jaw, the sight of him standing proud at the altar of the church, his broad shoulders and handsome face smiling back at her had worked its magic just as well as her bridal gown. Then there was his kiss in the side room of the church, the way he'd laughed with her, and kissed her hand before their parents. That was only a few minutes ago and still she desired more than anything for his lips to be upon hers again. She knows it's wrong to hope that maybe just maybe he might be falling for her, she's aware that the thoughts she's thinking can only lead to her own disappointment.

He helps her into the carriage waiting outside, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on her. She feels herself blush as he settles down beside her, careful to avoid the mass of her train that is pooling on the floor, his hand snaking around her waist. The carriage pulls away and Cora notes the vast number of people swarming all around them, waving flags and calling out to the new Viscountess. She hears the chants of 'The future Lord and Lady' followed by the demands that they 'kiss, kiss!' Cora laughs along with the crowd as she waves to their goodwill.

"Shall we?" His breath warms her neck as he whispers quietly into her ear, his mouth ridiculously close to her earlobe.

"Shall we what?"

"Kiss." Her hand drops from the air where it had been diligently waving to spectators. Her eyes drop from the crowd to her lap before glancing up to meet his. His hand stretches further around her waist as his other hand takes her fingers that lay in her lap, beside her bouquet.

"I'm not sure what our parents would say." She closes her eyes anyway, not really bothered by the prospect of their parents wrath. His lips were just so divine, they felt so perfect against her own. Somehow when he kissed her she could forget that he didn't love her, the kisses seemed to symbolise everything she wanted her marriage to be, they allowed her to dream and on this day she wanted to dream. His lips press to hers, the hand on her waist pulling her nearer, she hears the crowd scream around her, the sounds of their feet as they jump and stamp; the rhythmic clapping of their hands. But it's all lost against the sensation of his tongue pressing at her lips, asking them to part. They do so and his tongue presses against hers, fighting for its right of passage. Very quickly afterwards his tongue seems to lose its will and he parts their mouths. Kissing her cheek and mumbling something against her skin. It's only a few seconds later she realises he'd said 'later' and she blushes at the thought.

The reception passes in slow motion as she dances with man after man and gossips with women she doesn't know and doesn't care to know. She doesn't doubt the champagne tastes delicious, and the food is the finest the house has ever seen but all she seems to be able to think about is Robert. The wary part of her mind tries to tell her to not to get so attached, to not fall irrevocably in love with him, that is will only lead to a long, tedious marriage but her heart doesn't listen, she looks his way, smiles at him, talks about him. It's all she can think of doing. She hears the whispers behind her as she moves from group to group: 'she shouldn't get so attached', 'a woman of her standing in love!?' Some of them gasp as if the feeling is unreal to anyone that doesn't work for hours and hours a week.

She's pleased that Robert rarely wavers from her side, his hand clutching at the small of her back as I defying the rumours with her, she doesn't listen to the whispers in the depths of her mind that seem to suggest he's putting on an act and that it won't last past the honeymoon, no man could be that unfeeling, surely?

When she leaves his side to change into her travelling gown a sense of urgency seems to consume her, a desperation to be alone with him; to feel his kisses upon her. She's knows she's being ridiculous, stupid, letting her mind wander to the pleasures she's not supposed to enjoy. Her maid leaves her and she checks her appearance one last time before heading for the stairs, a buoyant skip in her step. He waits not at the bottom of the staircase but the top reaching for her hand he pulls her towards him, kissing her soundly on the cheek, careful to avoid knocking the hat from her head.

"Ready?" He mumbles gently against her skin, and she nods in reply. He grips her hand tightly as they descend the stairs. The guests still crowd in the hall, her parents reach for her and kiss her cheek, Pa mumbles an affectionate 'enjoy yourself my princess.' Before she's suddenly out the other side, Robert's hand still clasped in hers, the cold early evening air swirling at her skirt and lifting her hat. She reaches to hold it on, turning in the process to wave a final goodbye to her family; old and new.


	8. Wedding Night

AN: This chapter skips up to an **M rating** again, but it will be the last one for some time! Thanks ever so much for all the lovely review, favourites and followers for this story, it means a very great deal. This chapter carries straight on from the last, once again...but I promise this time that the storyline does really pick up in the next couple of chapters. Enjoy!

* * *

Grantham house was just as she remembered it as she stepped up the front steps and into the waiting hall. The pale walled entrance hall a contrast to the mahogany furniture and vast numbers of family portraits set against the dark rug back at Downton. The staircase was narrower but somehow just as grand, if not slightly more homely. As she descends the stairs having discarded her travelling coat and the jacket of her ensemble she heads towards the ballroom, from which she can hear the soft hums of a string quartet. What she finds upon her arrival there is her husband, casually leaning against the doorframe, his jacket removed, the tie hanging redundant at his neck.

"I thought we might dance Lady Downton." She lets him lead her to the centre of the floor and position her delicately in his arms, her gaze never moving from his face. When had he planned this? And why? Her heart begins to skip again, the sensation she'd felt in the church, could he, could it be that he...? But her mind never finishes the sentence as his mouth presses against her ear as he pulls her closer, tracing a pattern beneath it with his tongue. Her body freezes at the touch, unable to focus on the melody echoing in the room when he kisses her so intimately. He suckles still harder at her skin for some moments before he presses a kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry, we should be dancing." She giggles at his abrupt change of facade and the nervous sweep his hand takes through his hair. She reaches up to touch his cheek.

"I liked what you were doing. Better than dancing if you ask me." His eyebrows rise at her comment before he reaches for her hand and kisses the knuckles.

"I forget sometimes how forward you are."

"I wouldn't say I'm the only one being forward tonight. You seem to have planned out this evening with meticulous precision."

"Well, when I planned it I was anticipating you still being my virgin bride on our wedding night. I thought the dancing would relax you." He takes her in his arms again, and they sway slowly to the music, his hands seem to wander across her waist, rubbing at the divide between her blouse and her skirt. "There's food on the table when you want it." She glances in the direction he nods his head and is amazed at the array of food Robert had asked for the kitchens to prepare.

"That's quite a feast."

"Well, I could hardly have my new wife getting tired halfway through our night together." She blushes with embarrassment but her gaze stays fixed on his, her eyes wide, she hadn't thought Robert was capable of such talk, and before a lady.

"I'm not sure your mother would agree with you saying such things to a lady with whom you are alone."

"I beg to differ. A man can be as suggestive as he likes as long as he is alone with the lady, and she trusts him. I believe you trust me?"

"Very much so." Their conversation ends and they enjoy the next hour or so just dancing and eating, laughing at the other jokes and talking of the general hilarious antics of some of their wedding guests.

Cora surprises herself when she whispers her desire to retire to bed. Robert takes her hand, checking that she's sure, before he announces to the quartet that they may help themselves to the left over food and then leave. She expects Robert to leave her by her door so she may ready herself for bed, so it comes as some surprise when he walks with her into the room she'd changed in earlier. Not that it looks like the room she was in earlier. In the time she and Robert had been dancing it had been transformed: rose petals lay on the bed and a large bowl of strawberries with freshly whipped cream sit on the dresser. She wanders for the strawberries, her heart racing at the thought of Robert asking for her favourite treat. She's about to pluck one from the bowl when his hand reaches out and clasps her wrist a chuckle echoing on her neck. He picks up the bowl.

"The strawberries are part of a game I wish to play." She follows him to the bed, curiosity overwhelming her, what on earth had he thought up this time? "This, like the dancing is designed to relax you." She nods as he takes a strawberry from the bowl and dances it in front of her mouth, she takes it from his fingers with her teeth, the sweet juice instantly filling her mouth. "Every time you manage to take a strawberry from my fingers with your teeth, you may remove an item of my clothing and the same applies when I eat one from your hands." Cora blushes as she realises how this game is going to work. "But don't forget; you can tell me to stop whenever." It amazes her that even now, on their wedding night Robert is going to great lengths to make her happy to not do anything she might not enjoy.

She takes the bait of the cream covered strawberry Robert offers her next and she reaches her hands forward, quickly removing his hanging tie. She takes a fruit from the bowl, ready to entice him with it. He takes it from her fingers, letting his tongue, swirl at her skin before he takes it with his teeth, he gently unbuttons her blouse before slipping it down her arms. Cora sighs contently at the feel of his hands caressing her skin.

"Cora you're not supposed to succumb this easily."

"I suppose you'd like it if I did." She raises an eyebrow before reaching for the strawberry he wafts before her eyes and she accidentally nips his hand when her teeth manage to encircle it. She removes his shirt, sure to make a thing of running her hands over his chest as she had done a few nights ago. She chuckles when he gasps a little, her fingers grazing his nipples.

The game continues in the same fashion for some time, both of them trying to force the other into giving up. When Robert stands in just his underwear and Cora her chemise and panties she grins. Robert's lips lean towards the strawberry she waves before his mouth. As had been his habit for the last few goes, he kisses her hand, dancing his tongue over her knuckles, he stops his ministrations ready to take the strawberry from between her fingers when she drops her hand. As she hopes, his mouth follows in a desperate attempt to taste the succulent berry and rid her of her chemise. She giggles as she tucks her hand behind her back, Robert slowly shaking his head back and forth. She senses a plan forming in his head, and she anticipates him trying to clasp her wrists, so without further thought she whips the strawberry to her own mouth and lets the juice spread between her cheeks. Robert laughs before taking a strawberry from the bowl.

She watches with a grin threatening to creep at the corners of her mouth when he starts to lift the berry to his mouth, his eyes still gazing at her. Trying to tease her with her own game. She tilts her head up, having moved to stand in front of him, her hands rubbing at his chest. She doesn't expect Robert to take the bait, and indeed he doesn't. He lifts the crimson berry above his head, far from her reach. She presses her body against his to stand on her tiptoes, attempting to reach the fruit. It seems to have the effect she desired as Robert's arm releases its tension and a small gasp penetrates the air beside her cheek as he relishes in the contact. His arm doesn't drop though, and all too soon he seemingly recovers, teasing her with the berry again. She almost has it from his grasp when he darts from his place in front of her and crosses the room, a cheeky grin on his face. When he turns his back to her Cora doesn't think twice. She jumps onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist. They fall onto the bed, laughing, Robert having placed the berry between his lips. Cora takes it from its place with her lips before kissing him. His lips taste of a mixture of her two favourite things, strawberries and him.

"Lady Downton. You are one very naughty lady." She knows Robert is teasing and she merrily presses her lips to his again, running her hands over his abdomen to the waistband of the last item of clothing he wears. She chuckles at his contented sigh as she gently runs her hands over the slight bulge in his pants before she pulls them down his legs.

He presses a kiss to her lips once she's removed the garment and reaching for her chemise he pulls it quickly from her body. His hands rub at her breasts as he pulls her to lie atop him, a knee either side of his waist. His hands pull her hair from her coif at the same time they work at her breasts and Cora losses herself in the attentions she'd enjoyed so much a few nights before. His lips press at her collar bone, his tongue swirling in the dips of the bone. His hands reach for her hips some moments later, a gasp whistling between their mouths as he moves her to sit next to him. She lays back on the pillow, expecting a repeat performance of a few nights before only to feel the mattress dip beside her, Robert laying next to her. He resumes his ministrations, this time to her neck, his hand trailing a pattern to her panties as his lips suckle and nip. She lays beside him, a pattern of gasps and moans emanating from her mouth. When Robert tilts her face to her, his lips seizing her own; his hand still slipping her panties to her knees he takes her hands and places them on his chest.

"Touch me." His tone is hoarse and low, the vibrations almost non existent apart from in her ear where he murmurs them. She blushes at his request, but does as bade, her hands sliding into their somewhat practiced pastime of massaging his muscles.

He pulls her flush against him at the same moment she wiggles the panties from the resting place at her knees, his hands wrapping in a determined fashion about her waist. His hand traces from the curve of her waist to the back of her thigh, which he pulls across his own hip, her leg now hitched over his. She gasps into his mouth at the action, his tongue seizes its passionate circles as she does so, the warm of his lips replaced by the stale air.

"Would you rather I didn't do that?" She shakes her head, not trusting her voice as her chest heaves up and down, lips already drifting back to his. His hand runs in sensual circles upon her thigh, pulling her closer every few moments, she tangles one hand into his hair, as she tips her neck to give his tongue greater access to her mouth. As she does so, her hips press against his body and a groan erupts between their united mouths as she presses against his arousal. His fingers press harder at her thigh, his nails leaving crescents in her skin, his other hand now wandering to her own growing heat, the pads twirling at the nerves, pressing at the folds. Her breath falters and she has to part their mouths, thankfully he doesn't stop his attentions, merely pulls her still closer before rolling to lie on his back, she straddled atop him. It's then that she remembers the garter that sits on her leg, Robert's hand snaking over it, his face flushes at the same time hers does, and for a moment she forgets her desire for him and merely hurries to explain herself.

"Your sister gave it to me, a wedding gift. I promised I'd wear it tonight."

"Did she now?" The way Robert smirks at her, his hands gently massaging her thighs again makes her forget their slight digress, the burning in her centre reaching a level she knows she won't be able to bear for long. She kisses him again, desperate to tempt his thoughts back to where they were a few minutes ago. It doesn't take much, his tongue whirls with hers, his hands returning to their ministrations at her breasts. She moves to roll onto the bed, to let him cover her as he did before but he holds her hips firmly. "Stay where you are." He half growls the words into her ear and she obeys, looking at him quizzically.

He appears to ignore her confusion and simply slips his hand between her legs, massaging his fingers over the folds of slippery warmth. She sighs contently, her fingers splaying on his chest. He stops a second later, his eyes almost black as he watches her. He shuffles a little beneath her so his arousal presses at the place his fingers had recently swirled. She feels her lip taken between her teeth as he does so, a realisation dawning on her. She opens her mouth to suggest that Robert rethink his plans when his hand reaches to her face.

"Just do what you feel." With that riddle of a statement he lifts her gently from his body before guiding her hips over him. She's surprised she hears his grunt of approval against her drawn out gasp. It's at that moment she realises the meaning of his abstract comment a moment earlier. Even if she had known nothing of the mechanics of intimacy she knows her body would have automatically lifted itself from his before rhythmically lowering herself down his full length once more. She knows that with each passing pattern her moans would have grown louder, her thrusts faster in a desperate attempt to have him reach the centre of her desire. She knows that even if she had never done this this before her body would have felt the need to press her hands more firmly against his chest with every thrust, her back bending as she desperately grinds her hips against his. She knows she would have felt the release just as she did now and that her back would have arched before she collapsed against his chest. But she also knows that the greatest feeling of all of those would have been the simple kiss that he places against her cheek and the smooth swirls of his fingers on her back as her breathing slows, both of which are accompanied by the smile on his face, the pride that radiates from his eyes.

It's his breath that seems to recover first and he weaves his hands into her hair, pulling it all over one of her shoulders; kissing a trail down the side he leaves bare. His hand strokes once more over the garter at her thigh causing her to start. Robert merely chuckles.

"For a woman that's just behaved in a very unladylike manner, even if it was with her husband, it seems strange that you jump when I touch your leg."

"I'm not sure you can say such things when it was your idea for us to be intimate in that way." He chuckles in response to her snide remark and her raised eyebrow before kissing her squarely on the temple.

"I never thought, upon my wedding night, I would have a beautiful lady, who trusts me so perfectly, and is willing to try all the things I dream about, as my bride." Cora blushes at the meaning of the words he mumbles against her neck, his hand still trailing across her thigh. "I only wish I could give you the things you dream about." His voice seems to crack and Cora reaches for his cheek, running her fingers over the skin, and feeling the beginnings of his days stubble.

"If it's any compensation the things I've experienced in the two nights we've spent together are beyond anything I've ever dreamt of."

"I'm pleased it pleases you. But that doesn't change the other thing."

"Perhaps not. But we should enjoy what we have. You never know you may fall for me yet."

"It's not quite that simple though, is it?"

"No, which is why you should return your thoughts to the present and that garter your sister purchased for me, it's becoming rather tight." He finally laughs out loud, twirling his fingers effortlessly between hers as they run across her thigh.

"And speaking of the present, I can honestly say I have never dreamt that my wife would ever be quite so forward with what she wants." Cora merely blushes, her gaze dropping to the bedding between them.

"Would you rather I wasn't?"

"No. It's wonderful that you are. It means I can at least try and give you part of what you deserve." Cora doesn't have a chance to tell him to stop talking like that, to stop talking about his failure as his lips press insistently against hers, his hands pushing her to lie on her back before caressing her skin slowly, yet precisely, his lips joining the attentions that she hopes will continue in that fashion for the length of their marriage.


	9. Honeymoon

AN: This ones a high T in one of the italic sections near the end, other than that this chapter is an overview from Roberts point of view of their honeymoon, which lasted a month. The next chapter will move the plot forward but I didn't feel I could miss four weeks of their lives without even a mention. Hope you enjoy!

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Her hand is clutched in his as they disembark the train at Downton, the carriage waiting for them just through the waiting room. Robert tries not to panic as she leans across him and kisses his neck in the carriage, her hand wandering along his thigh. It's not that he doesn't like the sensations of her hands on him, it's rather that he's enjoying them too much.

Their honeymoon had been beautiful, stunning in fact. He was more than a little relieved that he had fought hand and nail with his mother to be allowed to honeymoon in Paris for the whole four weeks rather than the two weeks that she had originally suggested with two weeks spent visiting his family. The way Cora had gasped in amazement on their wedding night when he'd announced that Paris was to be their destination still made him tingle.

 _"You can't be serious Robert."_

 _"No I'm not, I'm merely teasing you." Her face had fallen then, her lower lip pinched beneath her teeth. He'd kissed her then, wanting nothing more than to soak up more of her delicious taste. "Of course I'm serious Cora. We are going to Paris, for a whole month." She'd gasped then, whether from the fact he'd kissed her until she couldn't breathe or because she was finally going to go to Paris to see all the paintings she had already told Robert all about, he didn't know._

It had been past two in the morning when they'd finally had the discussion about the destination of their travels and Robert had marvelled then, as he did now at how willing Cora had been to embrace all the things he'd suggested. But all that was the past, they were returning home now, to Downton, to his work, his life. Cora had been at the forefront of his mind for the last month but it was now time for him to step back into responsibility; to put Cora and the delights of their marital bed to one side. His problem was that every time he thought of Cora, looked at her, all he could see was the beautiful woman that kissed him and tasted so stunning. The woman that had clutched at his hand in the Louvre, her shining blue eyes gazing imploringly into his as she explained the life of some artist. The funny thing was Robert had never been one for art, but Cora had captivated his attention, made him listen and he'd marvelled at her knowledge.

"What are you thinking about?" Her sweet voice echoes in the silent carriage, her gaze falling quizzically on his.

"Only how much I've enjoyed the last month." That seems to satisfy her inquisitive nature and she presses her hand against his. The sensation only makes him remember the way she'd pressed his hand into his on the third week of their trip.

 _"Robert it's not that I don't want to. It's just well, I...um...I don't know how to explain...I imagine your sister may have told you, about women things and-" he stopped her there, a gentle kiss pressed to her forehead._

 _"It's alright. I'll leave you to rest." He'd left her then to sleep in the unused room on the other side of their suite._

Up to that point in their travels he'd never used it, preferring to spend his nights with Cora. He knew that was something that was going to change too. If his father, or even his mother, got wind to the fact he slept nights in Cora's bed he might leave a rather young beautiful widow behind. It was definitely something that was to stop now they were home. He hadn't mentioned this to Cora yet, scared of her reaction but somehow he knew she'd agree even if she didn't like the thought. Robert knew he didn't, the nights he'd slept in the other room of their suite had been hell.

 _He had awoken in a warm sweat, the sensation an annoying one when he'd been so deeply engrossed in a vivid dream. It was only after he had realised his situation that he realised the dream was in fact the reason he had woken in the first place. He'd groaned then, the thoughts of Cora naked above him disappearing in a flash to be replaced by the dull hues of a dark, early March night in Paris; rain hammering at the windows and the uncomfortable creak of the bed in the spare bed of their suite. It was at that moment, the sensation and need to have Cora by his side surpassed his need for anything he'd ever felt before. It wasn't even that he needed her, or at least would have preferred her to deal with his present awkward situation, but more that he wished for her company, for her laughter and the varying shades of pink that graced her cheeks from time to time. It was as these thoughts raced through his mind that he realised how attached he was becoming to a woman he barely knew. A woman who might be his wife, but according to the unspoken rules of his society could never have a use to him above running his house and having his children. He had fallen asleep sometime later, an uncomfortable throb still burning inside of him, thoughts of his bride still swirling in his mind as he desperately tried to plan out how he was going to lessen the time he spent with her and return the remarkable relationship they'd formed on their travels back to what society and his parents expected of him._

Needless to say he'd failed in every respect at slowly distancing himself from her. The last week of their stay had been spent largely in the hotel room, Cora point blankly refusing to visit any of the museums that they had spent the other three weeks exploring. They had danced in the hotel room and experienced the room service for the first time during their stay. Robert hadn't been able to let her go and now as he sat with her beside him, the first views of their home shining through the windows, he simply had to admire how easily she had taken to being his wife. How she simply managed to step seamlessly into new things she hadn't experienced a month before. She amazed him at every turn and yet he couldn't quite say that he was content with his marriage. He knew it was difficult to be so when one had only been married a month but somehow he knew even in the parts where he felt content that they would fade and certainly now that he had to distance himself from her, he supposed at this point his already hollow happiness was to disappear as she disappeared from certain areas of his day.

The key part to his whole lack of content in his relationship with her was due to the unbalanced situation of it. She'd saved his name, his family: for which neither of his parents really seemed thankful, each only bothered about what they had gained, failing to see what others had given up. But greater than all of that was the handing over of herself to him, her body and her heart. He could never match her dedication to him when he merely found her a highly attractive woman, just as all the other men at their season had. He offers nothing different from any of them and yet he had the burden of her heart. He knew other young men of his age that had said that was the worst outcome of any marriage, the woman falling for you and leaving you in a constant guilt trip. He'd equally been warned off forming any serious attachment to any woman having been told by many a man that they had a habit of being very indulging before they all moved onto the next man they could claim. Robert knew this only really applied to a certain woman, namely a mistress and that he was convinced Cora's affection was to be in his life for its duration and yet that offered no comfort, he didn't feel proud that she had chosen him above all those other men, he felt ashamed. Crestfallen that he couldn't return her sentiment. Angry strangely, not for his own unfortunate situation, like other men of his station might be, but angry that he was making Cora's life harder than it needed to be. That her life was going to be filled with heartbreak, something he supposed would actually only get worse with time; as they grew older and had a family to raise he assumed that their relationship would change from the fairly intimate one it currently was, resulting in her feeling even less cherished than she was now.

 _His mind drifts back to their wedding night, all of a month before and the silent 'I love you' she had whispered after he'd removed Rosamund's gift from her leg, her body still tingling from her climax as his tongue still flicked at her folds._

 _He knew he shouldn't have done it, kissed her there, when he touched his fingers there a few nights before it had been one thing, a sensation that had been performed in order to familiarise her with her own desire. But to use his mouth, he knew it was utterly wrong, not only was it a highly inappropriate act for one to do with one's wife, or at least men of his station deemed it so, it had been unfair on Cora, to exploit her body in such a way. When her sex had flown freely he couldn't help but moan against her thigh, as she gasped his name into the air and yet he'd still sat up immediately and turned to the edge of the bed, convinced she was about to turn him away for trying such things. He apologised as he stood, his hands reaching for his clothes only to feel the gentle pressure of her foot on his back._

 _"Where are you going?"_

 _"I should not have done that, exploited your trust and body like that. I'm sorry."_

 _"Robert," her cool hands had reached for his shoulders then, her fingers massaging gently at the tight skin. "You did nothing wrong. I would have asked you to stop if I hadn't enjoyed it."_

 _"It's not that Cora, I know you would have done. It's more that I can't believe I let myself do something so animalistic. So, driven by something out of my control."_

" _I'm pleased I make you forget your prim, proper self. It's good for you to enjoy yourself." Robert had laughed then._

 _"Only you Cora would say something like that." She had giggled then, leaning against him so she could whisper against his ear._

 _"Well, the two nights we've spent together have been a learning curve for me, they've made me realise all the things my animalistic side might want to do." He'd seen the blush that spread across her face at such a confession as he'd turn to kiss her on the cheek lifting her back to sit across his lap._

The memory of the taste of her causes his tongue to run across his lips. A need to taste the sweetness again bubbling inside of him. He knows he can't let his thoughts wander too far along this route, he's got to try and distance himself from her, even at night. In fact, most importantly at night. Their couplings shouldn't be too pleasurable however much he may desire them to be so. A certain amount of pleasure wouldn't be expected by society, let alone lots, he was already pushing the boundaries; although, if he thinks about it he's been pushing boundaries ever since he decided to marry a woman he found desirable. He pushes the thoughts away that tell him maybe it's unnatural to be with a woman if you don't desire her, preferring to keep his mind firmly on the plan of distancing himself from her, most namely in the amount of intimacy they share.

The carriage stops and Cora quickly leans across before Walters opens the door, her lips pressing to his; her hand squeezing his. He gulps as she turns away, swallowing guilt and the desire to kiss her properly back.


	10. Departure

AN: A review would be lovely, as always. I hope I'm not boring anyone because numbers have been dropping.

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Cora put the discomfort she felt at Robert's quiet, closed in self on the day of her parent's departure behind her, desperate to enjoy the last day she was to spend with them before their return to America, sorting problems with Robert could wait until they were gone.

She wanders into the dining room, her parents are sat next to each other at one end of the table, her husband at the other, looking over his cup of tea at them as they laugh. She takes a second to admire the width of his shoulders and the wave of his hair before she puts her hand to his shoulders and leans down to kiss his cheek.

"Morning Robert." He jumps and she can't help but laugh, her parent's wide smiles turning in their direction.

"Morning Cora. I wasn't expecting you down yet, I thought you were tired." He seems to realise the words he's spoken and a blush warms his cheeks.

"Not tired enough to not wave off my parents."

"Of course, I'm sorry. Shall I get you breakfast?" He stands before she answers, kissing her soundly on the cheek as his hands push her hips towards the chair beside him. He piles a plate high for her before returning to his seat and pouring her tea.

"Robert, I can manage to make my own breakfast." Robert opens his mouth to reply when Martha's laughing voice breaks through their private moment.

"Don't waste the opportunity Cora. It won't be long before Robert won't bother with such basic touches."

"I hope to prove you wrong Mrs Levinson. I believe that it's important that I treat Cora how she deserves to be treated particularly when she's been a fine addition to my life. If making her breakfast allows her to relax I shall do it." Cora blushes at his sentiments, perhaps the Robert she'd seen on honeymoon was making a reappearance. Her father stands then, coming to pat her on the back as Robert touches her hand beneath the table.

"It seems Cora, my princess, your choice was a good one, whatever adventures may have gone on before the wedding." He raises his eyes to Robert's above her head and Cora turns sharply towards her father, sensing the grin she will find there before she sees it.

"Pa, I've told you, that was not Robert's fault." He kisses the top of her forehead as Robert neatly adverts his eyes from her father. Cora can tell he's still convinced that her Pa doesn't like him; that Cora made a mistake, but she knows that's not true, he wouldn't be grinning otherwise.

"No, well either way, I think I am almost convinced that Robert will make a good husband for you my princess." Cora chuckles only seizing to so when she sees Robert's downcast expression; her parents disappearing out the door behind her.

"What is it? Pa isn't upsetting you again is he?"

"What do you think!?" She jumps as his cutlery clatters to the table, standing over her, she sees the annoyance in his eyes and for the first time she's terrified. "Every time I see him he makes underhand remarks about me, and the way you and I were together before the wedding, and yet you tell me he likes me. This marriage is hard enough already, my parents forming an utter dislike and you merrily telling me you love me." Cora doesn't have a chance to reply as he turns from the room, his napkin slammed to the table. The water pricks at her eyes as it had done often since their return from honeymoon. He rarely talked to her now, and certainly not in his parents company, preferring their chatter to hers. He hadn't slept in her bed since their honeymoon, and only came to her once a week, at the most twice to perform their duty. On those nights their couplings were quick and unsettling for her, affording her none of the pleasures she'd felt the previous times. That wasn't to say Robert wasn't obliging to her wishes, always asking her consent but he didn't go beyond anymore and she was too frightened to ask. She swallows back the burning tears and stands from the table; it's her parents last day, she should spend the time with them and put Robert behind her.

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His dressing room is cold and quiet, the early morning sun still rising against the hills. He knows it's too early for a drink, far too early but the liquid soothes his mind, not only with it's taste but the unerring swirl of it in the glass.

He'd shouted, why on earth had he shouted? At his wife. At Cora. He'd seen the tears threatening to fall down her rosy cheeks as he'd run from the room. Run away, again. And worse than all of that he'd laid blame at her door, he'd told her she was at fault for loving him, which was most definitely not the case. He throws himself onto the bed, his hands balling in fists and scrunching his pillow together, tossing it across the room where it hits the wall before falling dejectedly to the floor. He'd insulted her, insulted her family and shouted. He wasn't sure why, the uneasiness that Mr Levinson stirred inside of him was part of it, but he suspected a bigger part was the way he was trying to distance himself from Cora. He told himself it was so she could establish her own place at Downton but really he knew it was just to try and conform to what his parents wanted. It was of no joy to him to spend his nights in the cold dressing room, her warm inviting body next door.

He jumps from the bed with a new energy. Determined to find Cora to apologise, he should never have spoken to her like he did. He wanders along the gallery, hearing her laugh echoing from the bedroom her parents had occupied during their stay. He pauses in the open doorway losing himself in the melodic rhythm of her laugh, the way her neck curves as she tips it back, the chuckle becoming a giggle. She collapses backwards onto the bed, the source of her enjoyment clutched between her fingers: a photograph of her childhood perhaps. She recovers a minute late, reaching for her parents who sit either side of her, each laughing at her apparent fascination with the picture.

"You can keep it, show it to Robert. It will make him laugh."

"Yes Pa, I'm sure it will. Me as a little girl, naked and soaking wet, yet Ma still managed to get a tiara on my head." They laugh again and Robert steps into the room.

"I'm sure you looked very beautiful, even as a little girl." The three heads swivel in his direction but he only watches Cora whose eyes lose the joy that radiated in them a moment before. They drop from his and she stands from the bed, pushing the picture back to her father.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone is blunt, sharp and her face shows an expression of annoyance.

"Cora, I'm not sure-" Isidore stands from the bed, reaching for her hand.

"Mr Levinson, I'm afraid to say Cora has every reason to be angry. Which is why I'm here." He turns his gaze back to Cora, his eyes quickly flicking over her delicate face, he takes a tentative step towards her, reaching for her slender fingers that dangle by her sides. "I wanted to apologise for this morning, I shouldn't have said what I said, and I definitely should not have shouted. I certainly shouldn't have been rude about how you felt for me. You will forgive me?" Her pale eyes turn to him, her chin lifting towards him. She pushs their clasped hands to his chest, pressing her knuckles to his shirt. She merely nods her head, a little tear accumulating at one corner of her eye. He kisses her knuckles then, reluctant to reach for her lips before her parents. She seems to have other ideas though, and weaves the hand he's kissed into his hair, tilting her lips to his. It's only quick, her lips merely gracing his but he feels his body react, a desperate need to lift her into his arms a hard one to push away.

"You shouldn't forgive him so easily Cora dear. There will come a day when to hold a grudge will result in the best possible making up activity!" Robert turns blushing towards his parents-in-law, their hands clasped together at Martha's side. Cora's own giggle comes from beside him.

"Robert, actually while you're here, Cora tells me that you are finding it a little difficult to know where you stand with me. I'll have you know, I trust you totally with my daughter, I only hope she doesn't make life too unbearable for you." The gentleman winks at him before reaching for his hand, then kissing his daughter on the cheek, slipping the picture they'd been laughing at before he'd interrupted into her hand.

"Write to your mother and I princess, and at some point you're both very welcome in America. And remind Robert on a regular basis that I will send my dogs after him if he misbehaves." Robert laughs with his wife this time but he can't help but think his father-in-law is hiding the grief of leaving his daughter behind the careful facade of his humour.

* * *

She turns the picture between her fingers. Tracing her fingers over the image of her father and her in the front room of their Newport home. They had been for an early morning swim, and then on returning to the house had found a photographer waiting to take pictures. The gentleman had been quite crazy, having a funny turn at the thought of picturing the pair of them with just their soaking wet clothes on. Cora, had ended up naked, only ever having swum in a shirt of her father's and her panties. When her father had produced the picture from his pocket an hour ago she'd laughed, now she wanted to cry.

It would be months before she would see him again, if she ever did, after all there was no guarantee that Robert would take her on a return trip. The thoughts made her head ache, it had only hit home the loss her parents return would bring to her, up to this point she had been able to consult her Ma and Pa on matters of marriage, now they were a whole ocean away, their invaluable assistance a whole letter away, rather than a room or two away. Her dearest Pa's laugh and his humour, the affectionate murmurs about her being his princess all gone to merely be replaced by a draughty house, difficult parents-in-law and a husband that she no longer knew how to please. The tears spill onto the pillow, her father's last hurried words he'd whispered in her ear churning in her brain, the firm pressure of Robert's hand on her back at the same moment, a pointless support when her heart was beating in unrepeatable cycles as reality caught up with her. She wasn't sure her father's words had helped, they'd planted an annoying last memory of him.

 _He will love you._

It churned like a mantra in her mind. She'd just managed to bury the hope that had burned within her on honeymoon, the treacherous thoughts that had threatened her heart, and now her father had caused them to resurface. _He will love you._ He could only have meant Robert and the tears fall relentlessly onto the pillow as she realises how upset she will be if her father's words are not true. He'd always told her he was a good judge of character, and indeed he was, but she couldn't help thinking he had Robert all wrong, he was never going to fall for an American, it wasn't his way. Her tears slow, the realisation that perhaps it was her Pa's words that had haunted her rather than his departure. She could write and she knew he would always write back, and Robert was a generous man, he would take her back to America, surely? But it was those words: _he will love you_ that really disturbed her, her father had never got a man wrong and yet she couldn't let herself hope that this one would come true, it would only serve to break her heart, not as her mother had told her, one could actually break one's heart.

"Might I come in?" She hadn't even heard the knock at the door, her head buried too deep in her pillow. She shakes her head from side to side hoping her reaction will send him away. But she feels the mattress dip and his breath upon her neck making her shiver in a way, she hadn't shivered since their honeymoon. His hand runs gently down her back, as he drops a kiss to her neck. "I just wanted to check you were alright. Would you like me to send for some food, or a drink?" She shakes her head against the pillow again.

"Just leave me alone." The words are mumbled into the pillow, but it appears he hears her as the comforting hand stills on her back, the mattress levels again and the soft click of the door sounds a moment later.

Fresh tears fall into the pillow as she realises how rude she was, he was only helping, trying to understand and she had pushed him away. The room feels strangely empty without his presence, he'd had an effect on her even in those few seconds and she moans against the fabric. It seemed her heart was not going to be easily released nor easily captured by her stoic husband.


	11. Entail

AN: This chapter develops the sub plot of this story involving Roberts parents, but never fear Cobert is the second half! Hanks for all the wonderful support, pleased you are all still enjoying this.

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Patrick senses her presence before his wife steps into the library. The gentle clip of her heels had been his companion for years. She swirls into the room, her blue dress swishing at the floor in the commanding way it always had, even when she was an unmarried daughter of a baronet. The startling blonde hair is still coiffed upon her head, as it was then, the only difference being the shade of it, darker now than it had been before; the ginger highlights more easily seen. Her corset pulls her already tiny waist in to a ridiculous size and he places his hands on her waist as he leans down to kiss her cheek in greeting, breathing in the homely scent of her perfume. She turns away, a look of slight disgust marring her beautiful features.

"Patrick really, you can drop the charade, nobody is here to see it." He doesn't bother replying. He doesn't bother telling her it is not a charade, that he does care for her, she won't listen, she had refused to do so since the day they married. Besides, he knows it won't change anything, not when her heart is captured by another man. "But, thank god Martha, as she calls herself, is gone." Patrick admires her delicate form as she flops onto the settee in an uncharacteristic moment of relaxation rather than duty.

"Um, it will be hard on Cora. We must make sure she doesn't forget her duties. You should have seen the way she sulked off after they left yesterday."

"Oh Patrick give it a rest. They have been married a mere two months and a little and I have never seen Robert happier than he looked when he returned from travelling with her."

"I don't care how happy he looked." He shouts, as is his habit when Violet is undoubtedly in the right.

"I do. I tell you, it's a good sign, you know it is. When I returned from travelling with you I was still as nervous as a leaf, even if you were grinning from ear to ear. Cora, on the other hand looked as happy as Robert."

"I care little for the woman." It doesn't matter that this statement doesn't even fall close to his true feelings, she was a dear, the young American beauty, he only hoped she would not have her heart broken, as he had. "But, she does have a duty. An heir is needed."

"Take that back Patrick, now. It took us a good three years to produce a healthy child and even then I had to go through the terror of your mother because Rosamund was not a boy. Six years in total it took us. They have been married two months." She stands from the chair, her face a bright red, her eyes flashing with anger and he smiles, he feels the curve of his lips as she stands angry before him, she always was so desirable when she was angry. "What on earth is so funny?"

"Nothing. You angry I suppose."

"Well it better not be the thought of your mother getting at me, because I tell you she was terrifying."

"I don't doubt it." She seems to relax then, and returns to her seat. Her dress drops a little forward at the front as she sits, her maid having not tied the laces correctly and Patrick feels a blush rise to his cheeks as the tops of her breasts become apparent to him. His flustered situation causes him to miss the first half of what she says but he gets the general point as she rounds off her speech.

"Just don't force them Patrick. I know Robert well enough, and I've seen him with Cora often enough to know that he will take offence to you bringing up the entail."

"Why will he take offence because of the way he is with Cora."

"Oh Patrick." She drops her hands into her lap, her fingers tapping at her knees, a look of mock annoyance on her face. "Can't you see that he rather likes her?"

"What man doesn't? She's rather stunning."

"Yes, well, she's out of your reach thank god, she's your daughter-in-law, not some upper class tart." Patrick is not shocked by the harsh words that echo from her mouth, he'd heard them all before, but as he had for two decades he wasn't about to correct her.

"My point is I don't see what's going for her, other than the obvious beauties."

"Quite frankly, neither do I, the accent maybe. But the point remains that Robert looks at her in a protective way, an admiring way, he's not looked at anyone like that before. I'm just warning you to be careful, let Robert and Cora sort themselves, let them settle into marriage without our interruption. An heir will come, particularly if as you say, she is as desirable to your son as she is to you. Let's just hope he doesn't break her heart." The last words are said in a bitter venom, and Patrick knows she puts it on, he never broke her heart, he never got close to touching it.

"She will lose her attraction eventually."

"That is what I fear. I fear with the influence of home Robert is already ignoring her too much."

"You can't ignore a wife, she is around you all the time." He knows from experience it's impossible to break certain people from a mans mind, however big the house. Violet merely titters and shakes her head at his remark. "I still maintain that an heir is key to the whole equation. They can only relax once they have had a son, regardless of the feelings either of them bear, an heir will allow them to broaden their relationship, their duty already done."

"I beg to differ Patrick. I realise in hindsight I should have been closer with my children, this would have been achieved more easily if you and I had formed a relationship that was not solely based on having a son." Her words are bitter, not something Patrick often hears. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, his mind haunted by the tone of his wife's voice. Cora and Robert long forgotten he moves to sit next to her, taking her hand.

"Do you really regret it?" She removes her hand from his grasp, her fingers awkwardly twiddling with her cuff.

"Sometimes more than others. I did when I saw Cora with her father, how easy they were in each other's company. How well they knew each other." He only senses the tears in her eyes, as he looks up they don't exist, her face turned to the ceiling as she turns them away. "Of course I'm being ridiculous, I'm a lady, not a wet nurse." And just like that the vulnerable lady that he would love to comfort, to take in his arms has vanished, replaced by the prim, proper lady of the house.

"Not ridiculous. I, at the expense of my reputation would like to understand our children better. Robert particularly, I never seem to understand what makes him tick, and Rosamund, well, good luck to Marmaduke." Violet laughs at that, her angel face tipping backwards, the softness of her throat exposed to him, her golden curls bobbing on her head.

* * *

Cora's hand pauses above the paper and Robert can't help but admire the elegance of the swirls he can see from where he sits. Cora had been given a sitting room in the house as a wedding gift from his parents and she was in the process of drawing up plans for the furniture and paintings she wished for, as well as any further decoration. But this morning she had taken a break to write a letter to a friend in America. It was the writing of this letter that Robert had been observing for the last half an hour. He was supposed to be reading his book, but alas he had become distracted, by Cora.

Her chocolate curls were piled on her head in her usual style, but somehow she looked twice as pretty as usual, perhaps it was the stray curl that hung at the back of her neck, begging for him to twirl it between his fingers. Every time she was struggling for words to write she tipped her head from one side to the other, her hand stroking over the pendant that sits at the base of her throat. Her pen clatters to the table and Robert lifts his head to her, his eyes having always been focused on her over his book.

"Why do you ignore me so?" Robert starts, her angelic voice with its American accent bouncing in the air between them. "Have I done something wrong?" He shakes his head at that, not even beginning to fathom where her questions are stemming from. Ignoring her? Was he? He spent every day with her at various points, not all day but he always made effort to spend some time with her. "Only, since we returned from Paris, you don't visit me so often at night, and during the day you are often not with me."

"Cora," he says her name, and her eyes swing towards him, they flash, but not with anger, a strange uneasiness, an insecurity. "It's not that I don't want to be with you. But I have things to do now we have returned to Downton." He sees her huff, her chest rising, the swell of her breasts appearing above her measured dress. He feels his cheeks flush and he looks away.

"But surely I'm important? I'm your wife. In the future you may need my help with things, why don't you teach me about the estate?"

"Teach you...about...about the estate?" He stares incredulously at her and his eyes are wide as she stands, slotting the pen lid roughly onto her pen and throwing it to the table.

"Yes, Robert, teach me, show me. Or am I too much of a little women for that?"

"No Cora, of course not." He steps towards her, reaching for her laced wrist but she snatches it away, her hands staying fixed firmly at her sides. They stare at each other, Cora's eyes showing an unbreakable resentment. "It's just not a woman's world. That's not how England works."

"Robert, I'm not English. You married an American, out of choice I might add. I don't care how you do it. I care about me and this marriage. I refuse to sit around like a useless piece of fluff only useful for producing children." She takes a steadying breath here, but by the way her finger raises in front of her and stabs at his chest and the fiery flash in her eyes he knows she's far from finished. "And as for that, if you really want a son you ought to get on with it, one isn't going to be bought on the stork." Tears begin to rush down her cheeks, seemingly from nowhere and he reaches for her elbows as she sways slightly before falling onto the chair she vacated a few moments before, her words still coming in floods of anger. "That's what you want isn't it, a child, a son and then you're going to leave me to die a broken hearted old lady as you dally around with various younger women."

"Cora, Cora," he hugs her closely, rocking her slowly from one side to the other. He shakes his head against her curls, that lie beneath his chin, before tilting his lips to kiss the lavender scented chocolate. "I made a promise to you, no other women, never."

"But-"

"No buts. I promised. Besides, you will always be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, or will ever see." He doesn't know where the words come from, somewhere other than the functioning part of his brain, of that he is sure.

"Really?" Her small voice is shaky, unsure.

"Yes. I deprived a lot of men, every other man on earth in fact, of taking the American Princess, as they liked to call you, as his wife. The most beautiful woman." Her eyelids close, her lashes fluttering shut as she looks at her lap, where her hands are clasped. Her finger twists at her wedding band, the startling cluster of diamonds on her engagement ring being the recipient of her next touch. He takes his hand to hers, stilling her fingers before motioning for her to stand. He guides her to the chair he had sat in earlier, leaving her standing before him as he lowers himself to the chair. He pulls her onto his lap then, pleased to feel the familiar vibrations against his neck that are her giggle. He'd grown accustomed to her ways, her laugh, her smile, the way she twirled her fingers and wore her hair. The sound of her voice, her accent that dripped over his name. The curves of her body, the places that elicited a moan or a gasp, the tender places on her neck that made her say his name, the corners of her mouth that made her flush. He knew all these things, yet he never knew what she was thinking, why she didn't believe in herself, the things that troubled her, made her cry.

"What about the entail though. A son is what you want, isn't it?" She sounds so sure as she peers into his eyes, her own seemingly searching his for answers.

"We have ages to worry about that. Let's focus on you and I for a while."

"How long is a while?" Her head rests on his shoulder again and Robert marvels over her creamy complexion for a minute before he kisses her cheek.

"As long as you wish my dear. From now on I think we need to say more of what we each want and come to compromises. Where would you like to start?" His own grin is mirrored by hers.

"I want you to sleep in my bed." He bites back the need to tell her that is not possible. Not if they are going to wait a while to have a child. The fact society deems it unnecessary doesn't bother him anymore, it's protecting her from the strange need he seems to have developed for her. "I know it can't be every night. But once a week maybe?" She whispers against his neck, her hands clutching at his lapels, the two sensations make him take a steadying breath to calm his racing heart.

"If that is what you wish." He kisses her neck and she nods against his shoulder.

"May I be greedy and ask something else?"

"You needn't ask." She sits up a little, her legs still across his.

"What has changed since we returned home. Why do you not come to me and flirt with me as you did in Paris?" He looks into her honest eyes and he can't help but tell her everything. The fact he doesn't want to burden her, mixed with the strange feelings he can't understand, and the need- that it's not a totally physical thing, it's just her in general. He tells her that he wants to know her more before building a family. He explains how he has to tread carefully around his parents and that it was weird returning to Downton, the two worlds he had lived in suddenly collided, the one that contained her, and the one that was Downton. She nods in understanding before kissing his cheek gently. "Tell me when things trouble you. I know your father is hard on you, I've seen it, come to me if you want to talk, and even if you don't. We have to try and build something that's not just physical, although I like that very much." Her cheeks stain a brilliant shade of pink. "A partnership, where we help each other, teach each other, have a little fun along the way and hopefully raise a perfect little hazelnut haired and blue eyed Viscount." He laughs at her vision, kissing her nose and then her lips.

"I rather hope he has chocolate curls like his beautiful mother. But once again we are getting too far ahead. This time is for us." He watches the relief that floods her features, it seemed the entail was really troubling her, he only hoped his parents wouldn't push the point, but he knew with his father hoping was in vain, it was all the man was probably thinking about.


	12. Jealousy and Confusion

Cora stares at the crumbled letter in her hand forgetting how it had ended in such a mess when it was from her best friend. She'd written to her a few weeks ago, and today on her four month wedding anniversary a reply had come in the post. Maria had married the man she loved a month before Cora had married, it had been the biggest wedding in years but also the most loving. Cora hadn't been the slightest bit jealous, Maria was her best friend, the person she shared everything with, the girl who'd swam with her, told her all her dreams. But the crumpled letter in Cora's hand had reached its current state because she was jealous. Jealous of the girl thousands of miles away that was her best friend.

Jealousy.

It wasn't an emotion Cora experienced much. Why would she when she had money at her fingertips and a husband who appreciates her? She briefly wonders if she would have felt better if Robert had been with her this morning, beside her as she read her post, or at least about to pay his morning call. But not today, he was in London with his father and she supposed that may have made her lose control of her emotions, the thought of him being fed poison in the form of the Earl's horrendous habits. She takes a steadying breath realising that these factors no doubt weighed on her mind as she had read the letter the first time.

She unfolds the battered sheet and presses it against her knee desperate to try and flatten it. No sooner had she done this than the word that had caused her distress earlier jumps from the page, it being seemingly in bold ink rather than her friends thin swirl. It seems to flash red and black before her eyes, beckoning her to turn her attention there and nowhere else, burning a hole in her brain. Her eyes close, her head hitting the pillow as her fist folds tightly around the expensive paper.

Pregnant.

Maria was pregnant.

The paper leaves her hand, flying in a fit of rage towards the bin on the other side of the room, her other fist aiming down on the pillow.

"A letter from Robert? You needn't get so angry with him, I assure you that it will be Patrick that writes that letter." Cora starts and merely shakes her head at her mother-in-law who comes to sit upon her mattress. "Robert will never stray from you. I promise as I'm sure he has. You would do well to trust him as you have done with your heart."

"It was from a friend in America. My best friend actually. And I think, if I may say so you are a little hard on your husband. He may be a little harsh sometimes, but he has a certain regard for you." Cora watches the woman's countenance but no change is apparent. Cora was inclined to think that the Earl's philandering in London was more from a need to escape heart break and a one sided love than because he disliked his wife.

"He is harsh and I don't doubt I'm harsh back. He's my man to control. As Robert's is yours. On that fact I must admit that you do a far better job than I thought you ever would. Americans have a habit of being over emotional, but in hindsight that is exactly what Robert needs, a woman who makes him speak what he feels." She's walks to the ball of paper upon the floor and picks it up. "But enough about Patrick and I, our failed marriage is old news. Your happy marriage to Robert is new news as is Rosamund's impending wedding which I would like you to help me plan." She begins to unfold the dreaded letter as she sits upon the bed once more. "However at this moment it is this piece of paper that is the topic of conversation." She arches an eyebrow at Cora, one of Cora's own tricks, as she searches for the questions that Cora can almost see swirling in her eyes.

"Maria is pregnant." Violet nods.

"I thought so."

"She was only married a month or two before me and I don't know what to do. What will Patrick and Robert say when they find out? They'll be so upset...and it's not like Robert and I don't do what we are supposed to-"

"Hey, calm down Cora. Robert will not care and as for Patrick it's not in his best mind to care."

"But-"

"No buts. Robert wants to establish his marriage a little more before you have children, which is a very good idea. And you are very young Cora, only nineteen, there are plenty of years for children." For the first time since her mother returned to America another woman takes her hand and shuffles across the bed to pull her into her embrace. "Now, let's forget all about children and try and sort Rosamund's wedding, as always she has a million things she wants but no idea about when, what or how!" Cora chuckles against the woman's richly clad bodice. All too soon the comfort vanishes and Violet is her usual stoic self, standing proudly by the door. But her facade slips one more time. "You can come to me with any problems. If Patrick upsets you, or Robert is confusing you, and when you have children you can tell me all your worries." Cora nods at the heart felt sentiment as the door closes softly behind her mother-in-law, the heartache she'd felt at Maria's letter long forgotten.

The afternoon passes in a whirlwind as Cora follows in Violet's shadow. Her formidable side shown once more as she barks around both servants and Cora. Exclaiming about her accent or the straightness of her back as she sits. The too generous way she speaks to the servants, her wavering focus as they discuss fabric for dresses. It seems never ending until Rosamund splendidly announces the idea of taking the early evening off in favour of a walk around the grounds, and some sandwiches by the lake; Violet huffs and quickly declines mumbling about all that needs to be sorted and the lack of time.

The grounds are stunning in the June air and Cora drops her parasol from her side within moments of stepping outside, desperate to feel the hot sun upon her cheeks. She twirls once around, the breeze tickling at the ruffles on her collar. It's only when Rosamund laughs that Cora remembers her companion.

"Missing America?" Cora sighs, turning her face to the bright star as they walk across the manicured lawn.

"Not as much as I thought I would. But the last few days I have."

"Because Robert is in London?" Cora sighs again and turns her face from the sun to the red haired beauty she'd mistaken for one of Robert's admirers at her season, now almost a year ago.

"I suppose. He's the only thing, the only person I should say, that I feel in tune with here. Everything else is alien and I know none of you well enough to be comfortable when he is away."

"I'm sorry. I should have made more effort. But I didn't want to startle you, I'm rather mad!" Cora laughs.

"Don't apologise, you've had your own life to think of, your own marriage. As a daughter Downton is less of your concern, I appreciate that as a daughter myself."

"It's good that you feel so connected to Robert." Cora laughs again and then sighs.

"Yes, to fall hopelessly in love is not a woman's best gift!" Rosamund chuckles, her own parasol now lowered to the ground as she flounces onto the grass.

"I beg to differ. I have found many advantages of it with Marmaduke."

"And I with your brother. But I have to admit certain parts of that feeling could be recreated with any man." The pair blush and then Rosamund giggles.

"My, Cora, are you telling me Robert is not good enough?" The mocking tone in Rosamund's voice as she leans towards Cora makes the younger woman laugh.

"Of course not, he's lovely. But I think your situation is different to mine. With love on both sides I imagine you experience things I never will, and not just in bed. I wouldn't change Robert for the world. But I can't help but think when the years have gone by I will still want things that Robert finds no joy in anymore; I doubt that happens to the same extent in an even relationship. With love on both sides one can always get carried away sometimes." Cora's voice had turned serious as she'd spoken, her own heart lost in a subject that was likely to plague her life forever.

"If I might say so Cora, without you thinking me rude. But, what did you expect?"

"Nothing more. Less actually, but I suppose Robert indulges me, at my demand and that lets me hope, the most dangerous thing. Never let anyone let you hope Rosamund." The older woman gulps beside Cora, undoubtedly wise words coming from a woman of only nineteen who had seen so much of the world.

"Robert would not indulge you, even if you do ask for it, if he didn't feel it was worth his while. To make you happy I mean. He wants you happy Cora. He may not love you yet, and I do say yet, but he wants you happy." Cora looks at her lap, the lacing on her glove suddenly the most interesting thing.

Rosamund doesn't say anymore, just starts the sandwiches. But Cora's mind reels. The hope she'd warned so fiercely against welling up inside of her at her sister's words.

Yet.

The word rung in her mind like the church bells that had chimed on her wedding day; unrelenting and penetrating.

"Marmaduke." Cora turns at the sound of Rosamund's squeal as the older woman dives into the arms of the handsome banker stood a few feet from them. But she turns her head back too quickly, away from the loving scene that makes her want to be sick almost as much as Maria's pregnancy, to spy the more distant figure advancing across the lawn.

* * *

Robert advanced across the lawn towards the spot Rosamund always requested for picnics desperate to see Cora's face. To tell her of what he has learnt. He shakes his head vigorously from side to side as he recalls the conversation he'd had that morning with his father in their London breakfast room.

" _Morning son I'm pleased to see you early. I wish to talk to you about the entail." He'd lost his temper then._

 _"I refuse. Cora and I will have a child when we have a child not when you wish for one. It has nothing to do with you. My word is final." His father had huffed and hammered for a good few moments about how it was Robert's duty and that he should be getting on with it. "It's not that we're not. But I'm not forcing myself on Cora every night. Regardless of what society expects."_

 _"It's hardly forcing when she loves you."_

 _"So you're suggesting I don't force myself. No! I do something worse, I use her honest, true feelings for me as an advantage!?" He'd almost thrown a plate at him then but the man had grabbed his arm._

 _"I know from experience that any person who loves wants all they can get from the object of their love." Robert had blown a raspberry then._

 _"What has one of your women finally fallen for you?" He'd made the remark cutting for a reason but it was only when the silence had lasted a minute that he finally looked up._

 _His father was hunched over the table, his head in his hands and single droplets of water falling onto the crockery between his elbows. For the first time in some time Robert felt a strange wave of sympathy for his father._

 _"Is that what you think of me?" His father's words were whispered. "When I say I speak from experience it's my own." There's a long pause as his father takes a big breath before standing and pacing to the window. "There has never been a mistress, not one."_

 _"Oh Pa, really, don't-"_

 _"I come to London to escape the hardships of living with, being married to, a woman I love. A woman who can't return those feelings." Robert feels his eyes close. A million whispered remarks, a thousand gazes across ballrooms, a hundred touches, a handful of kisses flash before his lids. His father had always loved his mother, he saw it now. "That's why I pressure you to take note of Cora. Her love won't fade but yours can grow. I've seen you with her, you admire her, every minute you spend with her strengthens the ties. There's a chance for her in you Robert, there never was for me and I want her to have that chance. I want you to have that chance. I don't care how you do it. Sleep with her every night, not necessarily to produce an heir, but to be there with her, talk to her before you turn out the light. I don't care, I really don't but give yourself a chance to fall for her, for her sake, not for your own." His father had strode from the room then, his eyes dry even if his voice had cracked on every other word._

 _His first thought had been of Cora, not to do what his father had spoken of but as someone to talk to about his latest burden. Papa loves Mama. The words never seemed to leave his mind, nor did the words his father had actually spoken. He couldn't bear the thought of Cora telling the same story to their children when they married. He should try, perhaps it wasn't meant to be, but if he'd tried, really tried to love her he would feel better._

Her figure comes into view as he strolls across the lawn, her legs stretched out before her, her face tilted to the sun, parasol abandoned at her side. Her dark hair is hidden beneath her hat but Robert wants nothing more than to sit beside her and release the tendrils to lie down her back. Marmaduke and Rosamund stand off to one side and the latter notices him but he rises a finger to his lips, a sudden need to surprise Cora rising within him.

She jumps as his hands touch her corseted waist, his lips descending on her cheek. His hands move more vigorously over her sides and she falls against him, her head landing in his lap. For the first time that day he laughs, his father long forgotten.

"What...on...earth are you doing here?" The first part of her question comes between giggles, as he continues to slide his fingers over her sides.

"I came to see you, to talk to you." He strokes her hair as he pulls her hat form her head that still rests gently in his lap. "Turns out Papa has loved Mama since they met."

"I know." He stares at her incredulously.

"What!?" She laughs and sits up, kissing him gently on the cheek, her hand drifting to his shoulders.

"I've observed them, and the way your father looks at her, teases her, kisses her cheek, just generally gazes at her, it made me realise. I only really put it all together when you left for London, more time to think I guess."

"Why more time to think?"

"Because I'm not distracted." Her nose rubs over his and Robert feels his hands automatically reach for her waist, pulling her towards him, sitting her across his lap. Her tongue seems to dance across his sealed lips and he lets then part. They kiss for a few minutes her hands finding their usual refuge in his hair.

"I missed you." The words tumble from his lips and she seems to smile at him, a sparkle of something appearing in her eyes. He thinks it's hope but he's not sure. Hope for his love no doubt. His father's words come back to him and his mind seemingly makes a rash decision. "I might, if you'll allow me, sleep with you every night, not necessarily in the hope of producing an heir but because it might be good to spend every night in conversation. Time alone for just the two of us, every day. What do you think?" She doesn't say anything at first just presses her lips to his and then gently whispers an almost silent 'yes'.


	13. Realisations

AN: This chapter is a little short of Cobert, but the next one more than makes up for it. Depending on how reactions go to this chapter, I might post again tomorrow! So a review would be lovely (and might result in an additional update!)...thanks for the support so far.

* * *

Rosamund whirls in front of the mirror, the same tiara Cora had worn all those months before upon her head, she quickly takes it from her crown and replaces it with the hat that matches her traveling ensemble. Cora herself stands a short distance behind her, a delicate blue gown showing off each of her delicate curves. Rosamund can't help but adore the woman who is her sister, she keeps her head held high at all times, never phased by her demanding mother-in-law or often rude father-in-law. She seemed to manage Robert admiringly, but Rosamund could see she was falling even more in love with the man who was her husband. But Rosamund didn't need to do the dreaded hoping that Cora had warned against for love to prevail for her brother, it was already apparent. The fact in the last two months, they'd not spent a night apart was part of it, but it was the subtle things that had arrested Rosamund's attention; the looks he gave her at dinner, the compliments about her dress, his hand on her back. But when Rosamund had mentioned it to her brother he'd flared up declaring her 'absurd ideas about love to be ridiculous.' Rosamund had merely smiled to herself and had since agreed with her mother that during the next month a ball should be held in the hope of making Robert realise his love for the woman that stood right before his eyes.

Rosamund glances at the young woman in the reflection of the mirror, finding her lost in her current habit of fiddling with the edge of her glove. Rosamund knew she did it out of anxiety, confusion occasionally but at this moment it was a comfort to Rosamund, it allowed her to forget her own nerves, it was strange, she was sure of this marriage, had nothing new ahead of her, but somehow she was uneasy. The whole idea of a big wedding was not really her dream, she had tried to imagine the day her mother wanted to plan and she realised in hindsight she really shouldn't have done. The wedding and reception had been lovely but not quite what Rosamund had wanted, needless to say the day was over and it was time to begin the travelling she'd so been looking forward too.

Cora shuffles behind her, returning her thoughts to where they were before. Did Cora realise that Robert had fallen for her? Rosamund couldn't tell, for an emotional woman she managed to keep her feelings well hidden.

"Robert and I purchased this in Paris. I don't doubt you have one but I couldn't tell Robert that when the idea came into his head otherwise Maramduke might be dead!" Cora holds the open box towards Rosamund for her inspection and she laughs at the lacy black and red garter that lays curled in the tissue.

"I'm sure Maramduke and I will enjoy that later." Cora blushes for her and she roles her eyes at her sisters embarrassment, she really was going to make an excellent Countess. She leans down and kisses the woman upon the cheek before slipping the present on beneath her skirt. "Goodbye Cora dear, you may write, I've left Robert the address and we will be in the house by October. Don't let Robert do anything silly." She's pleased when the girl smiles.

"I'll miss you Rosamund. The last two months of wedding planning have been wonderful."

"I wouldn't call them that, but I'm pleased you're more at ease. Write about whatever, if mothers annoying you, funny guests at dinner, anything, I'll try my hardest to reply." A knock sounds at the door, her handsome husband peering around the gap.

"I'm waiting my dear. And as you know I won't wait forever."

"No!" She laughs and kisses Cora one last time before taking the waiting hand.

As she steps into the carriage downstairs and glances for the last time at the building she had called home for as long as she can remeber she quickly closing her eyes makes a prayer she never thought she would on this day. A prayer for Robert to realise his affection for his wife as soon as possible.

* * *

Violet had watched the swirling couples at Rosamund's wedding with some attention. Well, not all the couples, just Robert and Cora and even then it had mainly been Robert. One thing, the most important thing, was that it was obvious, finally obvious that Robert loved Cora. The fact the boy hadn't realised it yet was neither here nor there, he would eventually. She'd agreed with Patrick that they would leave Robert and Cora alone for a month in September after the final ball, in the last weekend of August, a chance for them to be together and Violet hoped it would finally mean Robert would announce himself. It was at these realisations earlier that afternoon that Violet now meditated as she climbed into bed.

She waited patiently for the knock at the door that she was expecting. Patrick came to her once every two weeks, and on special occasions. She disliked the whole situation, particularly when the man spent his time in London doing goodness knows what, but she felt a kind of necessity. She was well aware she had forced the man into his current habits through her own lack of interest, she was only thankful he didn't know what had gone on in Russia, or at least not all of it.

"Evening." He's sat upon her bed, it appears she had missed his arrival. "I must say it was splendid. Perfectly arranged."

"Thank you."

"I wish Robert would stop messing Cora around though. He should choose either an heir or telling her what he feels." He's swung his legs into bed and Violet knows her body automatically tenses, waiting for his hand to slide across the mattress and touch her. The sensation doesn't come and she turns her head only to find him gazing at her.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Patrick doesn't say anything, just runs his hands through his hair, a nervous habit that Robert had picked up. "Oh, never mind. And stop fussing about Robert and Cora for goodness sake. If you hadn't noticed he loves her. Which is going to be a whole lot more of a healthy situation than ours." She tugs the bed clothes sharply to her chin, throwing her head to the pillow in a exasperated huff.

"Oh really Violet. What can't you understand? I don't resent you for not being able to return my regard."

"No. But maybe, just maybe I would have been able to love you if you hadn't gone of philandering with other women all the time." A deathly silence prevails for some moments and then his shaking voice seems to echo as though they're in the church all over again, was it the words that cut to the bone, or his tone?

"I've never slept with a woman that wasn't you Violet. Not since we've married." Her first reaction is to shout him down, but she hears the sincerity in his voice, he doesn't lie, not Patrick. Guilt begins to consume her like a fog, thick and fast. Her breathing seems to hitch, her vision blurs and she feels the water that finds her cheeks.

He'd never strayed and yet...yet...she had. She'd betrayed his trust, his love, for a heated romance in a cold country. She always thought he'd taken her rejection to heart and forgotten all about her there and then but now she realised that hadn't happened, he still loved her now, it was why he persisted on these nights together. And he went to London to escape heartbreak, to escape watching her moving before him but not noticing him.

She swallows back her bitter sob and it's the strangest emotion that captures her next. A desire. A desire to say sorry in a way that pleases him, a way that he wants. She'd broken his heart when she'd refused to give hers but it was beyond his knowledge that she'd crushed it that night in Russia. But she knew, if she didn't do something about it, guilt would eat away at her. She rubs the smears from her cheeks and turns to face him.

She doesn't let him lead, for what must be the first time in their whole marriage. She reaches her hand forward and tugs at his shirt, prising the buttons apart. She's never seen his body before, nor him hers, it wasn't proper, but at that moment she doesn't care, he deserves this, to finally have what he's always desired. She's surprised when it's her own sigh that fills the room first, his lips tickling at hers. She presses harder, her lips parting, her eyes open as she watches his face.

"Violet?" His voice is a warning, a question, asking her about where she's pushing him, but it's breathy nature takes its sincerity away. And she merely nods, running her hands over his exposed chest.

"You deserve this." His mouth descends on hers in a way that used to be unpleasant for her but tonight it seems to be exactly what she wants, her tongue meets his in an automatic gesture, her fingers running through his curls as his hands run the length of her body.

"I love you." He mumbles it against her skin and for a split second she almost pulls away but then the tears sting her eyes as the words affect her and she parts his lips desperate to seek the comfort of his mouth.

* * *

Robert slips into the bed beside Cora, she knows her cheeks are a little flushed no doubt from the champagne he'd given her before he'd departed to his dressing room to change. But it's not the drink that really makes her giddy, she knows that, it's the day altogether. She knew she'd been distant as Rosamund had prepared to change for her travels but that had only been because she had been thinking of Robert and the looks he'd given her as they danced. They'd said barely a word as they'd danced preferring to get lost in each other's eyes. Cora knew Robert's eyes well enough that she was well aware there was a different look in them today. She didn't dare to think it was love, but my if it was.

"Rosamund was thankful for the gift."

"I should think so, the look the man in the shop gave me when I purchased that!" Cora giggles and reaches across to release a couple of his shirt buttons. "But, I can't believe you gave it to her!"

"What did you think I was going to do? Wait until she came back from honeymoon? That would hardly have worked." Robert chuckles then and his hands come to rest upon her waist. He seems to watch her and then turn away, looking towards the blowing curtains at the far end of the room. "You left the windows open?"

"It's cooler, I'll get too hot with you in bed with me otherwise!"

"Too hot?" She nods vigorously, hear rising in her cheeks in an ironic statement. He seems to ponder her unworded answer for some moments and Cora gets exasperated. She tugs at his neck.

"Kiss me." She's desperate to feel his lips, to see if the hidden message she thought she'd seen in his eyes continues in his lips. His eyes shine as they had earlier as he chuckles at her request, pulling her flush against him.

"I must say you're not afraid of what you want, or asking for it." She looks down but only momentarily, as had no doubt been his intention, before her chin is tilted upwards so her mouth may meet his waiting one.


	14. Jealousy

AN: The promised EXTRA update! And it's a long one!

This chapter is definitely one of the **M-rated** ones, so if you don't like that stuff you might want to steer clear, of at least the third section. A review would be much appreciated.

* * *

Robert watches her from across the room an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach as she leans yet nearer to Lord Dascombe. As a distraction he focuses his attention on the curve of her gown over her figure. The red fabric had been shouted down by his mother, deemed as not suitable, too showy, but Cora had persisted and he was rather pleased she had. The dark crimson suited her and the intricate silver beading across the whole bodice was in broad swirls Robert had never seen before, modern spirals rather than flora.

A piercing laugh, followed by a giggle he knows well floats across the room to him and he sees the pink of her cheeks and the joy reflected in her sparkling eyes at some remark of the Duke's. She notices him at that point, her eyes flitting up and meeting his, but he turns away, a queasy sensation whirling in his throat. He misses the frown that crinkles her features at his dismissal only hearing the gentle ring of her voice as Dascombe gently whispers another question.

"How's the new valet working out?" It's his father who's beside him and he jumps, his eyes removing themselves reluctantly from the rather attractive, far too attractive, looking couple on the other side of the room.

"Fine. Fine. Carson seems very skilled." It had taken some time to find a replacement for Peters but the job was done and Robert was happy, Charles Carson knew where his loyalties lay.

"Something troubles you?"

"Not particularly, where is Lord Dascombe seated for dinner?"

"I think Violet mentioned something about his being next to Cora." Robert gravely nods, tilting his head to toss the remainder of his beverage into his mouth in one gulp. Out the corner of his eye he sees a twinkle in his father's and can't help but almost blanch. His parents had been different in the last month, the usual awkwardness no longer apparent. Robert didn't know if it was because he knew his father's secret or because his parents were actually behaving differently.

* * *

Dinner was a slow affair for Violet. She sits and tries to appear interested in all that her dinner companions were saying, but in truth she had listened to very few words, certainly not long enough for one whole sentence. She'd chosen the two most easily taken in men to be her dinner companions so that she could keep her eyes fixed on Cora and her dinner companion, Lord Dascombe, and Robert.

Cora talked no more than she usually did at such events but she blushed and giggled more often. All so far was as it should be, Lord Dascombe was being his usually charming self and Cora was reacting accordingly. Reacting exactly as Violet wished her too. Making Robert jealous. She could see the frequent cringes that appeared upon her son's face, the sharp looks he gave to the woman he didn't realised he adored sat opposite him. Cora seemed confused at her husband's behaviour, a crease forming across her forehead. Robert was drinking repeatedly and the outcome of that concerned Violet.

Dinner ended and Violet suggested that a split would be unnecessary when everyone was enjoying themselves so much. She lets her gaze linger on Cora and her companion. She leans rather closer than she ought as they approach the door, some guests already crowding and blocking the doorway due to the strange habit of not splitting gender ways.

A band had positioned themselves in the hall during dinner and Violet falls gently into her husband's arms for the first dance. He leans closer to her, his hand slipping lower on her dress. She'd usually abolish him but today it was fine; since his honestly the night of Rosamund's wedding all was going smoother between them and the last two weeks had passed in a contentment they hadn't had since Robert was born.

"Is all going well with the plan?" She turns her startled eyes towards him, yes, she did have a plan, but he didn't know of it. Rather than snap, as is the first thought that springs to mind, she thinks of what Cora does, tease.

"What plan might that be? I have many you know."

"The one that involves Cora and Lord Dascombe."

"Oh well that's a relief, you haven't found out about the one that involves you yet, excellent." She chortles at his startled expression before she quickly reminds him not to take her so seriously.

"I've never known you tease me so Violet. What on earth have you been drinking?"

"Nothing different to usual. Although, we could have some champagne in bed tonight." He stares at her incredulously before he realises her sincerity. She'd rather enjoyed their night two weeks ago and she had made him repeat the ordeal once since. It was strange that she'd never been one attached to the physical side of marriage but recently their was some appetite for it, well, not recently, just since that night.

"What's the plan with Cora and Dascombe then? As I assume you don't want them to end up as lovers."

"Goodness no! Merely for Robert to realise he wants her. I'm working on the whole jealousy thing."

"Don't you think you should let him realise it in his own time?"

"Patrick, he's a man. They are invariably slow on the uptake."

"Are you saying-" but he's cut short, a struggle to their left and the breaking up of the music making them both turn.

"Cora come with me." It's Robert's voice she turns to, as he reaches out and takes Cora's wrist sharply from her side where it had dropped to when Robert had interrupted her dance with Lord Dascombe. "Lord Dascombe I suggest you leave the house before I make you! You were not invited to simper, smirk and sit secluded in a corner with my wife. Let alone dance with your nose virtually pressed to hers." His face is red and Violet swallows back the giggle that forms in her throat. She amazes herself, it had been years since she'd felt a girlish giggle overcome her, perhaps it was the recent escapades with Patrick that were making her feel younger. Cora looks mortified her wrist still in Robert's grasp and her cheeks stained.

"Robert I think you may be being a little harsh. I'm sure Lord Dascombe meant no harm." Patrick's calm voice enters the fray and he stands between the men.

"I don't care if he meant harm. Society has rules, Cora is my wife and I will do what I will to protect her from scoundrels." Robert makes a move passed his father towards the confused young Duke, and Violet knows her mouth opens, her hands reaching for her cheeks as she sees his clenched fists.

"Robert!" It's her own piercing shout that resounds in the room, and it takes her a moment to recover from her own shock and continue talking. "You're not helping yourself. Cora looks rather terrified at this moment and I'm sure she would appreciate you calming down." This seems to set him straight and he turns on his heels to his wife. Her lips seem to tremble as he reaches for her before she turns and scarpers from the room. Violet feels her husband's reassuring hand on her back.

"Don't trouble yourself. They'll sort it out."

* * *

Cora feels the hot tears on her cheeks and it takes her some moments to realise she's ended up in the library. It's not long before she hears the expected footsteps advancing.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to come and tell me off."

"Cora-" he reaches his hand forward trying to clasp her wrist again.

"I won't have it Robert. Why should I not converse and dance with other men?" He stares at her, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"It's not that Cora. He was taking advantage of your loveliness. Holding you too close, chatting to ardently. I doubt he noticed any other woman in the room."

"But if he'd done it to another woman would you have noticed?" She has to know, why on earth does he behave like this, does he love her. Or is it just his protective nature that fuels his jealousy.

"I may have done. But I don't follow other women around the room like I do you Cora. I haven't looked at another woman all night. As I said I have a job to protect you as I promised I would." His voice cracks his hand reaching nervously into his hair. "All I know is he did it to you and I didn't like it." Her heart lightens and she's sure he must sense her joy, it must be plastered on her face. It seemed he may have fallen for her. But she wouldn't really know until he told her, but there was something in his actions, in his eyes that seemed to enlighten her. "You're mine I suppose and I don't like him touching you. It was the touching really and the talking and well, all of it I suppose." She shakes her head from side to side before stepping into his arms.

She tilts her lips to his, the contact shocks him at first but his hands quickly find their place upon her waist. He moans as her tongue probes a little deeper and she can't help but relish at the feeling. Her hands remove his jacket and start upon his shirt buttons before his hand stills her movement.

"Cora?" She merely shakes her head, pulling his face to hers.

"I'm yours. Something you appear to have forgotten tonight. Let me." Her voice comes out shakier than she hoped, seduction had been her plan, not damsel in distress.

His hands seem to work in over drive after her comments. They make some passes through her hair before slowly running over her front, gracing all of her intricate beading. They linger for longer over her breasts managing to stir a desire even though a vast deal of fabric hinders the contact she knows she most wants. One then slides to her hip, pushing her backwards and she gasps twice into his mouth when she feels her back hit the red, black and blue leather bindings of Downton's infamous library. Her hands reach for his shoulders in a steadying gesture, her hands tracing the curves of his muscles she knows almost perfectly.

His tongue lashes fiercely against hers when her fingers grace his nipples and she twists them as he so likes. His own groan reverberates in her mouth before he takes his mouth from hers and presses wet kisses to her neck. She tilts her head back which allows him more skin to devour and also, which had probably been his plan, pushes her hips against him.

She's not sure if she groans from the ministrations at her neck, his hands that gather the dress at her waist in one swift move or the firmness of him pressed against her. Either way she does, the heat seems to rip at her seams as he lifts her to rest more firmly against the bookcase his hands massaging her thighs in firm circles.

She struggles for some moments against the sensations burning within her to no avail but when his lips still on her neck she gains some little control that allows her to release him from the constraints of his trousers and pants. He seems to appreciate her gesture, a guttural sigh meeting her neck. She's about to pleasure him some more when his hands tug vigorously at her panties and they drop to her knees, his hands seemingly previously made short work of her complicated other undergarments when she had been lost in her pool of lust and love. It wasn't too much of a surprise, he'd learnt his way around her undergarments, including her corset on honeymoon.

It's her own moan that fills the darkened library then as he lifts her around his waist, slipping perfectly inside of her.

His thrusts go from rhythmic and comforting to fast, hot and furious, her back pounding harder and faster against he expensive spines of the leather bound books, her heart beating equally as dangerously, her breathing breathy and deep, her body desperate for oxygen. His tongue slides deliciously over her collarbone sealing her fate, or at least that of her orgasm. She convulses around him, her sticky face meeting his clammy chest in a desperate pant of his name. But it's not the erotic sensations that ricochet in her mind but the look in his eyes as he finds his release, the look that isn't guttural, that has a sense of comfort, even love in his eyes. An appreciation for her and not just her body.

She lifts her face some time later and his forehead rests against hers, his lips press to hers once more, quickly, before he lifts her to the floor and readjusts his trousers. She lets her own body drift into the routine of returning her own undergarments to her body as she lets her mind wander in more favourable directions. Her cheeks warm, her heart hammering not only from exertion but the relief racing through her mind. He did love her and more importantly than that he was willing to fight for her, fight for them, he'd shown that through his jealously over Lord Dascombe, and they had just done unspeakable things in the library, something Robert, with his belief in the rules would never have done before. All in all, it was becoming plain that Robert's body and perhaps even parts of his heart knew exactly where they stood and what they wanted he just hadn't comprehended it yet. It's with these somewhat startling and slightly exciting thoughts that Cora takes his hand and kissing him gently on the cheek suggests that they return to their bedroom, her reply a mere grin and a slight increase in pressure at her waist. Robert loved her. He really did.

* * *

Robert lets her tug him up the stairs and pull him into her darkened bedroom but it's only when she lights a few candles, giving him some time to think that the events of the last few moments play back in his mind, what on earth had taken control of him in such a mad, animalistic manner that allowed his body to seemingly disconnect from his mind. He'd violated her whole privacy, his one promise that he'd do nothing she didn't want. My, yes, she might have asked for it but not for the pain that coupling must have caused her, the echo of the thumping, now he realises, her back against the bookcase makes him curse beneath his breath, or as it happens not so beneath his breath as her worrying gaze falls on him.

"Is something the matter?" He rubs his temples a fear overtaking him, what on earth must she think? He's amazed she didn't turn and run, my goodness, how could he have been so careless, almost forgotten what he was doing he was so desperate to make his mark, prove she was his. He considers lying but then he remembers their conversation all those months ago, about telling each other their troubles.

"It's only, I think...I mean, if I hurt you...downstairs...Cora, you really should have told me to stop. I mean, that was so animalistic so...carnal, you deserve better than that. So, so much better." She comes to kneel in front of the chair he sits on, her hands rubbing along his legs.

"It was good to let go like that, for both of us."

"Don't make excuses Cora not when you know I'm right. I'd promised you I'd look after you, treat you as you deserve to be treated, not like some floosy, for me to do what I like when I like."

"Robert, it wasn't at all like that. I asked you to, neither of us would be human if we didn't lose control sometimes, if sometimes we wanted to try something new, more adventurous. Didn't you always tell me to ask if there was something I wanted to try? Well, I saw it tonight, in your actions, in your eyes, you wanted to do that, even if you hadn't realised it, and I let you."

"Cora, that-" But she's moved, her hands trailing up his trousers and causing him to start. Her fingers trail over his shirt and jacket to his cheeks as she stands, and then placing her knee onto the chair beside his own she sits on his lap. Straddling him, just as he'd asked her to that very first night. Only this time it's not him in control, it seems to be her. She kisses along his neck before shifting a little so she may look at him.

"I don't want to hear any more. Not ever, and certainly not now when you're supposed to be kissing me." He rolls his eyes at her statement, she never seemed to be nervous, she was so sure of herself and he wished sometimes that he had that talent, of being so sure of everything he did, never doubting.

"God Cora, you, what on earth would I do without you?"

"Let's not dwell on that now darling, there are far more important things to be sorting."

"Such as?" He smirks at her as he begins to wind his hands beneath her skirts, he did so enjoy teasing her.

"Why don't you show me?" And with that his hands seem to find the clasp of her undergarments, and his lips meet hers; the worry of earlier long forgotten, after all, he couldn't go back in time, only look to the future, and Cora was the future, his future.


	15. Alone

AN: This is a very Cobert chapter, just them and the next big plot development: Cora, her journey and struggles, will be the focus for the next few chapters. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Cora stares across the sparkling lake in the early September air, a slight breeze rustling at her hair. Robert sits beside her, his hand stretched behind her back, his legs directly before him, trousers rolled to the knee. Cora had never seen him quite so relaxed and she knew the cause was simply his parents absence. They'd left the house a week ago and wouldn't be returning for a month, residing instead in London. Cora wasn't silly, she was well aware that they hoped for something to come of 'the young couple being alone.' But in truth she imagined it had only added to the pressure for Robert; he was running the house and was now supposed to be making some grand announcement. She wished it as well but she was happy to live with the fact she knew he loved her, he'd never said it but in the last month but it had become apparent that he did.

He stares at her little ankles that continually move at the hem of her white tea dress. Half her chocolate curls lie down her back and they swirl in the autumn breeze; an almost hypnotic nature to their shining colours. Her fingers curl and uncurl in her lap as she fiddles with a loose thread at her waist. His parents had abandoned them for a month and yet he couldn't quite bring himself to make the statement he knew everyone so desired. He didn't love Cora, he had to admit he was closer than he'd ever been but, well, there was so much he didn't know about her life before him and it contrasted with a stark difference to the intimate things he did know about her. That he knew was where he needed to start, learning about her and what she had always enjoyed, so he may treat her on occasion in a way that showed thought, not extravagance. His sisters suggestion had been this picnic and so far it seemed to be working, she'd positively glowed at the idea.

"So..." He stares at her awkwardly as her blue orbs capture his attention and falter his breathing. "Your friends in America, how many did you have and what were they all like?" She chuckles and stretches her toes again.

"Why on earth do you want to know that?" She tilts her face quizzically at him, what was he thinking, usually she could tell but somehow not at that moment.

"I wish to understand you better." She nods in understanding before raising her face to the sun, catching the breeze upon her nose. It was a game she and Maria had always played, thinking it was fairies that graced their faces.

"Well, Maria was my only close friend. There's not much to say, we did everything together. Absolutely everything; balls, boys, reading things we shouldn't, shopping." She smiles fondly at the warm memories.

"Boys?" She chuckles at his amusement.

"Well, flirting and such like, all those fan movements." She wafts her hands slowly one way and then the next, her lips slightly parted in enjoyment at his naivety. He can't help but let a smile snake across his face as she continues talking, a slight blush upon her face. "Nothing that's not allowed, no kisses or such like."

"Where is she now?" She takes a second to remember their original topic of conversation, the sidetrack of Robert's jealousy making her smile.

"Maria is married, she did so a month or so before we did."

"Why did you never say?"

"It was unimportant. Ma wanted me to marry here."

"Did she love him?" Robert dimly registers the nod of her head but he can sense there's something deeper burning inside her. He shuffles a little closer, slipping his arm around her waist and rubbing her far hip. He's pleased when her breath slightly hitches but her gaze turns unusually away from him, she was definitely hiding something. "Cora, tell me, what is it? Is the man treating her badly? Is she unhappy?"

"No, no." She studies the grass at her side, admiring how each blade has a crease up the centre. Should she tell him, should she tell him what he doesn't really want to hear, that her friend is having a baby. A friend that has been married only two months longer than they? "She's pregnant."

Robert gasps, did he just here that right, pregnant, no, Cora couldn't be pregnant.

Cora stares at his confused face and then back at her lap, as she had thought, he wasn't best pleased.

"I know I've failed you. But your Ma said it didn't matter that Maria was pregnant, that it would happen for us soon." Robert breathes a sigh of relief the worries about being a father and not knowing what to do vanishing quicker than that had come, Maria was pregnant, not Cora.

"Oh my, I misheard you my dear, I thought you said you were pregnant. But surely Maria is having a baby that is wonderful news."

"I just thought you'd be annoyed, that's why I never said, annoyed that it was her and not me." He stares at her teary eyes and lifts her smoothly to sit in his lap, kissing her neck and her hair.

"Cora, when have I ever been annoyed with you?"

"When Lord Dascombe was here."

"Yes, well, that's not what I meant. I've told you and I've told you, a baby is not high on my list of priorities at the moment. My, if it happens I will be over the moon, if a little scared, but really Cora, Mama is right, there is time; plenty of time." He kisses the soft spot behind her ear, his hands massaging her back gently as he knew she liked when she was wound up.

They sit in peaceful contentment for some moments, Cora's deep breathing the loudest sound as he continues his smoothing of her back. Her muscles seem to relax a fraction more with each touch and then she suddenly shivers and falls back a against him, her muscles loose.

"The baby is due in early October." Her voice is a whisper but she knows he hears his hands press at her waist and he leans his chin on her shoulder before turning his to face her. He kisses her gently on the lips.

"Would you like to go over to your parents for Christmas? Then you could see the baby." Cora strokes his cheek, not believing a word he says, there is no way they can go to America at Christmas. She'd seen the festival at Downton last year, it was quite something even she had to admit that, Robert couldn't miss it.

"No. The sea will be too rough anyway."

"The new year then. March, April?"

"If you're sure." He grins at her wide smile and nods his head, his lips pressing at her nose. She swivels in his lap so she sits facing him, her knees against the ground, her hands finger the ripples of his muscles through his shirt. It had opened at the top during their earlier kissing which Robert had gently paused, unwilling to have a repeat performance of the shenanigans in the library a few weeks ago. "What else is there you wish to know of me? Although I dare say you know the most intimate things." She shuffles upon his lap, seeing if she can urge his thoughts back to earlier ideas that had failed so quickly.

"I believe Lady Downton you are trying to take advantage of your current position." He tickles at her sides and she takes a firm hold of his shirt in an attempt to steady herself, just as Robert hopes she would. Holding onto her uncorseted waist he flips her into her back, his body looming over hers. Her breathing seems to stutter and Robert presses a kiss to her neck, leading them both down a path he's not sure he can refrain from. In the last few months their marriage had developed somewhat, or at least returned to the state they'd found on honeymoon. It was bliss he wouldn't deny it, she was beautiful but it scared him how much he desired her, how often he really wants her pressed naked against him. He knew she wouldn't mind, but somehow he found it wrong, to desire her body without knowing too much of the woman. "But, if you must know, I want to know how you got along with your brother." He lifts himself from above her, and watches with amazement as her breathing steadies before she sits up.

She takes some steadying breaths before she returns to her upright position, trying to deny the need that bubbles at uncontrollable levels. She leans over and strokes her hands gently over his chest again, trying to pry him away from his serious thoughts.

"Well, I was fairly protective of him I suppose. We even shared a bed once!" She laughs as the memory flashes before, a night she hadn't thought of in years. "He must have been just old enough to understand Ma and Pa's fights. And they were screaming at each other and he padded into my room in tears, weeping that Ma and Pa were going to divorce."

"Your parents, divorce?!" Robert splutters at the absurdity, he'd only experienced their company for a few weeks, but it was easy to see they adored each other.

"Well, you know, those who love passionately tend to fight passionately for what they think is right." She eyes him with her eyebrow raised but Robert turns away, his head suddenly sore. 'Those that love passionately' somehow, he thinks that should be them. They certainly had fought numerous times with some vigour, but, as all things seemed to come to, he didn't love her. Yet, somehow he knew he should, what wasn't to love? She was lovely, made him laugh, he liked kissing her, making her blush, hearing her laugh, her giggle, dancing with her, walking with her, holding her in his arms as they talk about the day's events and what the morrow might have in store.

She watches as his mind seemingly wanders from the present. She somehow knows what he thinks, he's thinking of them, of whether they are ever going to be 'passionately in love' since they already fight with some fierceness. She doesn't want to tell him the barrier has been crossed, that he already loves her, he should work it out on his own. If only so she gets the benefit of the surprise when he finally realises, if she's honest she'd wait a lifetime. She was loved and in the end that counted for a lot.

"Cora, I-" he takes her hand, running his hand gently over her rings and then her knuckles. Perhaps one day he could engrave the ring with the words they both so wanted him to say. "I-" he looks at her expectant expression, the eyes that sparkled with love and joy. "Cora, kiss me."

She starts at his demand, he's never asked such a thing of her before. And it was most certainly a demand, his mouth was by her face. She tilts her lips up to his and they briefly touch before she jumps from him.

"Lady Downton! Lady Cora!" It was the Butlers shouts mixed with his own panting. "A telegram." He stands dishevelled and sweaty before her. She takes the offered piece of paper well aware of the frown that covers her brow.

 _Baby early. Stop. Maria died. Stop. Funeral two weeks. Stop. Come._

The world seems to shake, the tears cloud her vision and then two sets of arms seem to catch her. She hears calls of her name but just walks in the direction she thinks is the house, a pressure trying to pull her back at the waist. The blackness seems to move and she sees the man she's given her heart to, a man that doesn't understand is talking to her, saying words she can't hear. She thrusts the letter to his hand and stumbles forward towards the looming facade that means nothing compared to her friend. Her best friend. Dead.

He stares at the crumbled telegram in his hands and feels his own breath hitch, he turns mechanically to the woman stumbling to the house. But she's further from him now than she's ever been, driven only by grief.


	16. Grief

AN: Thanks for all the support and comments. Angst ahoy in this chapter I'm afraid. A review, as always, will be gratefully received and appreciated.

Also, to _witchoesed_ who has his/her PM disabled but was kind enough to review both this and 'Your Wish is my Command' thank you ever so much for the comments, and the favourites, they are very, very gratefully received. To answer his/ her question yes the Violet/Patrick sub-plot will be mentioned again but the main plot for a couple of chapters is Cora.

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The port was crowded, filled with faces she'd never know and would never care to know. But one she recognised, one she didn't care to see, he would never understand. He stood as close as he could to the gangway. Guilt bubbles in her throat, threatening to make her fall over. She drops her gaze from his as soon as she spots him, not wishing to look into the face that she knew she'd hurt. He'd written twice while she'd been away but each time Cora had simply read the letter and tossed it aside not wishing to pick up pen and paper and reply. It wasn't that his words didn't move her, they were very sweet, even verging on loving but she couldn't have written saying she was alright when she was far from it, her heart aches and her eyes sting with what had been almost permanent tears. Robert could never understand, never, he'd never lost a friend, a best friend. Why should she enjoy herself, writings letters to her husband while her best friend was dead, her wonderful life cut so short. It wasn't right. Wasn't fair.

Nothing in life was fair, she knew that, but somehow it didn't ease the blow, the aching. The loss of a confidante. Someone who she could pour her heart out to at a moments notice. Someone who wouldn't judge any word that came from her lips.

His hands fall to her waist, his lips hurriedly grazing her cheek. It doesn't feel like it did before she left, she doesn't doubt that's because her cheek is hollow and her heart a lot less focused on Robert, it's depths thinking far more of the tiny life she'd left alone in America. The way the tiny fingers had curled around her own, the way she pressed her toes to the edges of her baby suit, her bright eyes shining up at Cora. The gurgle she made when she finished feeding, even the adorable dribble of the milk as she burped.

"What are you doing here?" She spits at him as he manoeuvres her through the throngs of people.

"I've come to pick you up."

"I'd gathered that. But how did you know I was back?" She grabs at his hand, stopping them in their tracks.

"Your mother wrote to me." She almost growls but she suddenly remembers herself and merely nods, taking his offered arm. It wasn't right to be angry with Robert, he'd done nothing wrong, it wasn't his fault Maria had died or Martha had written to him, something Cora should have guessed. She'd gone on and on about how Cora should not have refused Robert's offer of coming to America with her. She'd said how it would have strengthened their relationship if Robert had been able to learn to support her in her grief. But Cora had brushed her off convinced it would be better to deal with her problems alone, what was Robert to understand about the darkness that seemed to consume her, the aching that radiated from within and the general emptiness she felt at having lost someone who she'd shared more with than anyone else in the world.

"I've booked a room at a hotel in Liverpool for tonight. I thought you'd want to sleep."

"A room? One room?" She stares at him, what on earth was he thinking? Did he really think she was willing to sleep in a bed with him?

"Cora, if you'd rather sleep alone, that's absolutely fine. I will sleep on the settee." It seemed he'd followed the series of frowns that had formed upon her face and guessed the source of her discomfort.

"I'm sorry." They're in the waiting carriage by then, a larger gap between them than there had been on their wedding day. She feels the sobs she'd held in for the last few hours as she'd prepared her bags force their way to her mouth. The tears spilling over her lashes and wetting her cheeks. "It's just...I can't...not when she's dead and she deserved it so much more than I did." She feels the tentative hand on her back, stroking slowly in the calm circles she liked so much. "I do want to, we will again, soon, I promise."

"Cora, stop, stop. You know I'm not suggesting that. If you want to talk to me, I'm here. When you're ready for all of that, I will be, but only when you are." She nods against his chest where her head had fallen.

They are in the carriage very little time. Robert doesn't say anymore, just keeps rubbing her back and moving tears from her cheeks. He helps her gently down the steps and into a seat in the foyer. This only serves to increase the guilt that hangs over her. She was ignoring him, blocking him out and yet he was doing everything he could to make it better, to make her life easier.

"I've ordered some room service. I understand you might not want to eat but I'd be happier if you had something." She nods, not wishing to tell him the thought of food makes her want to be sick. The last time she'd eaten she'd been sick, in fact it had happened numerous times, but she wasn't surprised, the last few weeks had been horrible.

She clambers quickly into the bed once Robert has left her alone. Only wishing to curl up in the bed and forget everything. She doesn't let her eyes close, scared of the dreams that had plagued her the last few nights coming back to haunt her. She dreamt of her own child, her own little baby boy motherless in the arms of a forlorn Robert. But then her mind would remind her that she wasn't pregnant, she might never be. The little baby she had left behind in America was adorable, a dark haired little girl, with the green eyes of her mother. She'd done nothing but cuddle the girl for a week, the baby's father too broken with grief to lift much of a finger for the girl. He had help, a sister, which was a relief to Cora, otherwise as a godmother she may have taken the little girl home.

Her thoughts go around in circles, slowly drifting her to sleep as she remembers how the baby had suckled from the nurse and gurgled and burped, how much Cora wanted to hold a baby of her own, watching as he or she stretched in her arms.

She hears the screams then, the screams that are her own as she sees the body in the coffin, the little baby in the front pew as her own mother's funeral is held. Suddenly the baby is a little hazelnut haired boy with Robert's blue eyes wrapped in Rosamund's arms as Robert stands and talks beside a coffin.

She starts awake, her body covered in a cold sweat, her breathing heavy and pads to the bathroom, hot bile in her throat at the thought of her baby being motherless.

His hands capture her hair and she vomits into the toilet, he hands her a towel and she wipes her mouth.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's alright."

"Will you hold me, in bed. It might help take away the nightmares." He nods and follows her to the bed. She's not really sure why she asked, but somehow she thought it might help to have him near. He slips his arms carefully around her waist and she relaxes at the contact of his hands on her confused stomach.

"Did you eat anything?" He whispers the question against her neck, not able to see her face when they're spooned together.

"Yes, some of the biscuits, and the soup was nice."

"I never asked, was the baby a girl or a boy?"

"Girl." She doesn't wish to elaborate, guessing that Robert's next question will be the name of he girl. She doesn't want to talk about it, she'd been angry when she'd been told, she'd almost thrown up.

"I suppose they called her Maria." Cora hears the sob echo in the room before she realises it was hers.

"They should have done. But Richard persisted that Maria had settled on calling her..." She sniffs as tears slip down her cheeks again. Robert's arms tighten on her waist.

"Ssh, Cora. Calm down. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Cora." The word that's a whole part of her, but yet she almost never says breaks from her own lips. "They called her Cora." She chokes on her own tears as a lump sticks to the sides of her throat. She'd not told anyone how upset she'd been at the choice. It wasn't her choice to make after all, she supposed everyone else had understood, seeing that naming a baby as the mother had wished was a nice thing to do. Cora, as the chosen name only felt that the baby's mother had died and the little girl should have been named for the woman she looked so like, not for a friend that was thousands of miles away from her.

"After you, I suppose?" Cora simply nods, not trusting her voice anymore. He kisses her neck gently, his hands circling on the strange sensation that had been a permanent feeling in her stomach since she had left for America. "We will make sure we keep an eye on her, I'm sure your mother will tell you how she's getting on. And when we travel to America in the early new year we can visit her."

"I don't want to."

"Not now perhaps, but in time I think you will my dear." She seems to drift off, not wishing to tell him it's wrong to let the poor little baby grow accustomed to a face she may never see again.

The image of the church and the pews, crackles before her eyes again and she bites back the urge to scream. She opens her eyes before closing them slowly again, focusing on the strength of the arms that hold her. It doesn't seem to work and it's the hazelnut haired boy that appears next, his blue eyes shining at his father. She begins to shake and she hears Robert's whispered comforts in her ears which only seem to serve to make her dizzy. She blanches but thankfully isn't sick.

"Tell me about the dream." She starts at his serious voice before she goes to shake her head but then she thinks better of the idea.

"You're there, talking, making a speech...Rosamund sits in the pew holding the little boy. He looks just like you...but-" she chokes again, and feels so weak, crying about a grief that has not happened, that maybe never will. She's knows the circumstances were strange, little Cora was early and breach and Maria's body refusing to commit. It didn't happen often. It hardly ever happened and yet, it had happened to Maria. Of all the people in the world, it had been Maria, so surely it could be her too.

"I'll look after you." She gulps at the realisation that he'd worked out what had happened, that the event in her nightmare was a funeral, without her telling him.

"You can't promise that."

"No. But Dr Clarkson is a good doctor and I'm sure my dear that you will be well prepared, my mother and your own will be on hand I'm sure."

"But when things go wrong..."

"Not often my dear. Now, I think you need to sleep." He begins humming in her ear, a short little melody that he had learnt she liked and the familiarly of it all seems to allow her body to drift into its first peaceful slumber of some time.


	17. Morals

AN: Not much to say about this one, just thanks for all the support and reviews.

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Robert swirled the liquid in his glass as he stared at the fire, the night reminding him of one months ago, a few days before his wedding when Cora had said those three words he'd been dreading for months. Yet, they'd come so far, only to be back to where they had started again. He didn't know what to do. He could sense that she was going to ask tonight. The look had been in her eyes for at least a week. She was recovering, that much was true, but Robert knew she was far from alright. She was still being sick every morning and often waking in the night from the continual nightmare although she claimed that during the day she could forget Maria as her mind was occupied with other things. But that didn't mean he could do what she was going to ask of him. He couldn't, he absolutely couldn't perform their marital duties however much she might beg and plead for him. He wouldn't take advantage of her.

It was why he stood staring at the flames but not seeing them, she was going to ask tonight, he was convinced and yet he knew he couldn't, it would be utterly against his morals to take a woman, Cora, his lovely wife to bed when she wasn't sleeping unsettled through every night, when she was awaking and immediately being sick every morning. It didn't matter how much she might want to, it wasn't right. However much he might want to, he couldn't let himself be persuaded.

He reluctantly returns the glass to the table, sure that Cora will come looking for him if he doesn't appear soon. He doesn't care to think of what his father would say if he knew they were sleeping together on a permanent basis, his mother had frowned, but nodding her head had put this situation done to Cora's condition for which Robert didn't wish to disagree with her over.

He slowly paces the library once more turning for the door, his heart already pounding four times faster than it should be. It's only Cora. She loves you. It's for her own good that you can't. The words chant in his head like a mantra with each step he takes up the staircase.

He doesn't bother to call for Carson entering Cora's bedroom, their bedroom as she called it, before his dressing room only to find her already dozing, her eyes closed. He can't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he walks to the bathroom. The smell of her lavender bath oil overwhelms him and his mind briefly rests on the image of her soaking in the bath, her head resting against the back, her hair tied in a blue ribbon. As he looks at himself in the mirror, he can't help but feel the guilt rise up inside of him at his own thoughts, thinking of her like that when he'd sworn he wouldn't take advantage of her, and then was the fact he had been so relieved when he had found her asleep. Cold water splashes at his face and he shakes his head from side to side in an attempt to clear them.

He pushes open the door carefully and pads back to his side of the bed, avoiding the various rugs that Cora has persisted on having put in the room, solely for the reason she couldn't decide which she liked best. Robert had frowned to begin with but now he feels a smile tug at his mouth, she was so sweet, so unique, the way she had gesticulated as she'd explained her preferences to each carpet before he'd carefully told her she could keep as many as she wanted. He'd watched in amazement on that day when she'd smiled brightly at him, before carefully asking if he was sure.

He slips back into the bed, his face still warm with the smile from his memories. It's then, as he turns the bedside lamp off, that she'd left on for him, that he feels her finger on the bare skin of his back, he turns slowly to face her, her finger following his movements, tracing a path around his side to his stomach. Her smile is radiant in the moonlight and her bright blue orbs shine with excitement.

"You were some time in the bathroom. I was about to come and get you." His hand slides into his hair in an act of frustration, her nail already digging at the curves of his torso. He feels the ragged breath that leaves his lungs, only staggered because he tries to hold the sigh of contentment at her touch that bubbles alongside it.

"I thought you were asleep." Her periwinkle orbs sparkle before him, her lips turned to his.

"Sleep?" She half laughs. "I was waiting for you. Why would any woman sleep when you were coming to join her in bed?" He doesn't miss the hidden compliment but it doesn't manage to bury the nerves that seem to electrify his body. How on earth was he going to turn her down if she keeps making passes over his skin?

"Cora...not tonight." Her resounding giggle fills the room.

"We haven't done so since before I left for America, you can't try and fool me into thinking you're too tired, because I know you're not, not for this anyway." Her lips press at his neck and his hands instinctively reach for her waist before he pulls them away. _Don't touch her. Don't touch her, you'll be gone. Touch her, kiss her, you need her._ His brain seems to be working in overdrive. Half screaming for him to kiss her, smother her with his mouth, his body, the other screams reason. Despite her giggle Robert can tell she's nervous, very nervous, her voice is shaky, unsure. "I want you." She whispers the words against his neck, her lips tilted to his lower ear.

"Cora..." He leans into her face, his lips brushing at her forehead. "It's not that I don't want to, you really should know that."

"Then what is it?" Her eyes turn expectantly up to his, her dark eyelashes blinking once, leaving her orbs sparkling.

"I don't feel comfortable-"

"You've never mentioned that before, is it something I do, something you don't like?" She shifts her weight away from him again her eyes still raised in a question. Robert is relieved she moves slightly from his side, the sensation of her breathing wafting against his neck was leading him to distraction and he was well aware that he wasn't explaining himself clearly enough which would only lead to Cora being upset, and that above everything else he wished to avoid.

"Cora, let me finish. It's nothing you do, how you could even think that I don't know. It's just you're not exactly yourself at the moment."

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Her voice is sharp, her eyes no longer soft but piercing, scary. "I'm a little tired yes, does that make me less agreeable to you or something? Am I no longer pretty enough?" He can hear the tears threatening at her voice, the liquid appearing in her eyes but when he opens his mouth no words come out and he closes it again, her gaze still fixed on him. "Or perhaps you don't want your wife telling you what she wants, putting her desires before your own."

"Cora." The single word pierces the suddenly still air that's only moving with their deep, angered breaths. "I have always told you that you may ask for whatever you want when it comes to our physical relationship that doesn't change now."

"No? Then what's the problem?"

"My morals." The words whistle from his gritted teeth and her smooth features crinkle with the confusion, her brow covered in deep gorges. "I don't want to take advantage of you in your current distressed situation."

"But I'm not-"

"You're sick every morning and you awake after a nightmare at least once a week, some nights I can wake to you trembling in my arms." She drops her eyes from his, her hand stoking once across his chest at an agonisingly slow pace. "I'm worried about you, that's all. And I feel it wouldn't be right to take advantage of a woman in such a condition." She doesn't look up, her fingers straying over the buttons of his shirt, her brow knitted in thought.

"But I want you."

"I know. And I am sorry, but I just wouldn't feel comfortable. I'd feel like I had used you."

"You could never do that. I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't feel I was ready."

"I know you are my dear." He pulls her to lie against him, her head cradled once more against his chin, the sweet lavender smell that had stung his nose before now burns. "It's just I'm not. Not quite yet." His words deceive his own body, as he feels a need bubbling inside him that's as intense as the burning in his nostrils.

"Would you be more ready if you weren't worried about the fact I'm still being sick even though I've recovered as well as I ever will from the grief?"

"Perhaps. But there's the nightmares too. When you tremble."

"The trembling is because I'm cold. You know England is not as warm as America." He smiles at her teasing remark but it quickly vanishes as he tries to get his thoughts in order. But, if she was not having nightmares and was recovering from the grief why on earth was she being sick every morning?

"Cora, I don't understand. You say you're not having nightmares but why are you being sick all the time if not from thoughts of Maria?" She looks at him through her eyelashes, a smile tugging at not only her lips but her sparking periwinkle orbs. Her hand finds his and she intwines her fingers with his before moving their hands to her stomach.

"The sickness is because of the baby. Our baby." Robert feels his jaw go slack and he quickly closes his mouth, his eyes still remaining wide open as he stares at her twinkling face, and hears her giggle. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't know what to say, but when his senses seemingly recover a few moments later he does the first thing his instincts tell him to do, he kisses her.

Her lips part instantaneously, her breathy gasp dissipating between their mouths. His hands tug at her gown pulling it over her head. His morals seem to be forgotten, but he doesn't regret it, he pauses at one point but she pulls him closer, pleading for him to continue. It was strange how just a certain set of words could change his whole out look, his whole future, both immediate and long term.

It felt like they'd given themselves up to each other in a handful of moments when he lays sated beside her some time later, but a glance at the clock tells him that at least half an hour had passed. As his body slowly calms, his heart rate plummeting he stares at the beautiful woman beside him, the wonderful woman that carried his baby. He feels the tears sting in his eyes, never would he deserve her.

"I hope I didn't hurt you my dear."

"No. Not at all." He marvels at her grinning countenance for some minutes before he asks the question that stirs in his mind.

"When? When did we conceive the baby?" He runs his hand across her naked stomach.

"The week before I left for America. He or she will be born in May. But obviously, I'm not very far along, so don't tell your parents yet, in case something happens." Robert merely nods, still struggling to comprehend the fact that he knows Cora a lot better than he had then, it had taken the death of her friend, but they understood each other far better now, he might say almost perfectly. But he didn't love her. He once thought that Cora falling pregnant would cause him to love her, but he realised now that didn't change anything, if anything it complicated matters. Their time was running short and Cora was going to be in need of his desperate support in the months to come, she was going to be fragile and nervous- likely terrified. He knew he'd give her his support, give her anything she might ask for, willingly. He'd do everything in his power to make her pregnancy as easy as possible. But it wasn't because he loved her, it was his morals again, they forbid him to do anything other than care for her, protect her and cherish her to the best of his ability.


	18. New Life

AN: This chapter is a fluffy one, but you all deserve it!

I'd like to take the opportunity to thank very very gratefully the guest reviewer who left the name 'S' whom says he/she has greatly enjoyed this story and praised my characterisation and my general writing. It bought me almost to tears, it was so so sweet and to whoever you are, thank you, I can't really explain how much, you said things that every writer on here would love to hear so thank you for singling me out. The story isn't quite over and I hope you enjoy the seven or so chapters that are left. X

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Cora stares wide eyed at the stern face before her, she knows her mouth is open, her jaw slack but she can't seem to process the thoughts that will close it, her whole mind, pounding at the same rate as her heart, repeated four words that seem to shatter her comfortable existence. How does she know? It was all going so well, she had thought she was disguising the fact she was with child relatively successfully. Yes, she was still sick in the mornings and was occasionally late to whatever event Lady Grantham wanted her to attend, but it was a rarity; it had happened perhaps twice out of at least ten to twenty. She only hoped it hadn't been Robert that had told her, he'd expressly promised that he would wait as she had suggested until she was definitely in the clear. She couldn't imagine he'd break that promise now, not now he'd managed to keep the secret for two whole weeks.

"Oh don't look at me like that girl. It's a mother's intuition, you are about two months pregnant. Does Robert know?"

"Yes...I...yes." She twists her hands around in knots in her lap keeping her eyes fixed on the points of her shoes beneath her gown.

"Don't fidget your hands so. It's not proper. Your posture has improved excellently, don't ruin it with poor gestures." Cora nods her head at her mother-in-law's critical eye, although to get a compliment from her was quite amazing. "Was Robert pleased?"

"Yes, at least I think so, he's been worried about me."

"Um, as I still am. You're not eating enough to support that baby." She jabs her finger in the direction of Cora's stomach and she feels herself recoil at the harsh remark. "That's why you're being sick so much, no woman has morning sickness for the first few months, you've had it continuously since you returned from America, and in America I don't doubt."

"Well, I-"

"Didn't you?"

"Yes, but Maria-" she feels the tears stinging at her eyes whether from Violet's true remarks about her possible issues with the pregnancy, or just because she knows she's been being sick so often, she thought only Robert knew.

"I don't doubt that didn't help. But once you'd recovered from the grief you would have stopped the sickness. What did the doctor say?"

"I didn't...I mean...I haven't." The tears sting at her cheeks but before she can wipe them away the settee dips beside her and the strong arm of Lady Grantham takes her shoulders.

"I didn't mean to upset you. But, perhaps you should see a doctor. There's that new one, the younger one, Dr Clarkson I think he's called, in the village, shall I send for him?" Cora merely nods against Violet's warm shoulder. "How about tomorrow? Today I thought you, Robert and I could go and have a look at the nursery and think about cribs and things. From what I remember we may need a new one, it was falling apart when poor Robert slept in it!" Cora laughs against the silky fabric smooth against her cheeks, unable to fathom how she finds comfort in the woman who is of no blood relation but seems to understand her better than her own mother.

* * *

Robert can't help feeling rather out of his depth as Cora and his mother swirl around him in the small room on the east side of the house that had been his nursery some years ago. Cora had quickly pulled him aside before luncheon and told him that somehow his mother knew of the baby and they were all to spend the afternoon in the nursery. Cora and his mother hold wallpaper against the walls, some old styles from the roof, others from Ripon, it seemed his mother had been shopping. They had tossed many of the older ones onto the small sofa, even his mother agreeing that they were out of date. They now held two, one new one from Ripon in a cream shade with a repeated pattern similar to that in the drawing room; this one was promoted by his mother. The other was one from the attics, in a pastel peach with prints of children's childhood objects on it. Robert marvelled over how such a print had been produced, it really was very beautiful, obviously hand printed but beautiful; this was the one Cora preferred. He wasn't sure if that was what swayed his preference to that choice but nevertheless it was the one he would have chosen.

"But Cora, you must see the benefits of using a new paper with a pattern that the children won't grow out of." His mother wasn't being harsh, not for her, Robert would describe her tone as firm.

"I do. But that doesn't change the fact that I prefer this one. This is to be a nursery, hopefully for some years." Robert feels his own blush correspond with the one he spies on Cora's cheeks as she argues fiercely with his mother. "Besides, I am to be the mother of the next children that spend their days in this room, I'd like to have some influence over what surrounds them."

"Not too much influence I should hope. No Lady deals with their children in a particularly intimate manner." Robert sees Cora go to open her mouth, a fierce glare in her eyes when his legs seem to move him forward, his hand reaching for her slender waist, anything to stop her saying what she's about to say.

They'd discussed it already, when he'd mentioned that preparations would have to be made for a nanny to be taken on at some point. She'd furrowed her brow and merely said they would take a nanny on but she wanted to suckle and wean her children herself; that she wished to dress them and change them; bath them and help teach her daughters; be the person they turned to for help; the person who sat up with them when they were ill; the person who slept in the same room as them when they are a baby; the person waking to feed them. He'd not said much when she'd mentioned it, not wishing to explain that wasn't how it was done. And heavens knows he didn't want his mother telling her so now. Somehow as he'd listened to Cora explain all the things she wanted he didn't wish to steal her dreams away, and in hindsight he knew his own childhood, his own relationship with his parents would have been bettered if they'd put in the effort, and perhaps this was the effort, this was the way that he wanted his children to grow up, deep down he supposed he always felt that, he'd just never been able to voice it, in fear of being shot down, but then Cora had voiced it, and it had all fallen into place.

"I think perhaps you've both done enough arguing over-"

"We are not arguing." Her bright blue eyes sparkle up at him and he places his other hand upon the hand that has dropped to her side.

"No, well, discussing. I would like to suggest we use the wallpaper Cora has chosen Mama as I rather like it. Now, I believe you mentioned cribs?" He's amazed to find his mother smiling at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes. His mother begins to prattle on about crib design, leading them over to the crib that was last used by Robert himself, but Robert doesn't take in a word she says, he just follows Cora with his eyes. He studies the movement of her hips, the curve of her neck, and the way lose pieces of hair have fallen from her coif, it's perfect curls from the morning already a mop of loose pieces. She turns and matches his gaze every so often, her lips parted in question but her eyes bright. She reaches out her hand to him at one point, when his mother produces his old baby clothes, and makes him look at them, giggling about their style or their size.

"That one I remember to be ridiculously uncomfortable." He points at the ridiculous sailor suit. "But it was Mama's favourite and Nanny used to cram me into it every night when I used to go down and see Mama."

"Which is exactly as it should be." Violet's raised eyebrow turns in his direction, having the effect of immediately making him feel like her servant- how on earth did her maid cope?

Cora chooses not to retort on her own this time, leaving Robert to marvel at her intelligence, she picks up hints so easily. Instead she turns to the next frock in the pile, a bright lemon day dress.

"I'm sure you looked gorgeous in this one darling." Her twinkling eyes turn to him while his mother's bemused expression stares at the back of Cora's head.

"Well...that wasn't actually-"

"Mama, Cora knows, she's only teasing me. But as a matter of fact I remember Rosamund putting it on me once, it was her favourite but when Nanny left us one day she forced me into it which got me into trouble and I went without my sausage for breakfast the following morning."

"Well I shall have to find out more of the details from Rosamund." She peers up at him from beneath her lashes and Robert is amazed that she seems to know he's keeping something from her. But then he remembers he shouldn't be amazed Cora knows him inside out. He glances at his mother, but she pretends not to notice and instead moves some more clothes about before taking her lips between her teeth as she exams the crib. Robert mouths a quick 'later' at Cora before squeezing her hand, his mother's gaze seemingly resting upon their joined hands like a laser.

"Now, this crib. I think it might be salvageable, it only needs a couple of new panels and a coat of paint. But, as you say, another crib will be necessary if you have children close together. That personally wasn't a problem for me, Rosamund was out of the crib by the time Robert came along." She's seems to speak in a tone of disgust but Robert can't tell if it's for Cora's suggestion of many children or the thought of the age gap between her own. The conversation continues for some time until it's decided that two new cribs will be made, and the old own discarded, the decision happens to coincide with the dressing gong and they separate, their minds ringing with thoughts of children, to change.

* * *

She lies in bed staring at the canopy, a familiar weariness consuming her, her eyes begin to close but she parts them again, desperate to talk with Robert before she sleeps. It seems like an age before the door that adjoins their bedrooms cracks open and he appears.

"Finally. I was beginning to think you'd fallen asleep in there."

"Sorry, father arrived home from London and was bombarding me with useless rubbish."

"I'm sure he's only trying to be kind." She doubts that very much but it's not her place to voice her opinions on Lord Grantham. He'd tried to be kind to her and Robert had recently explained the revelation of the heartbreak the man had to live through. A cool breeze whips at her legs as Robert gets into bed before his warmth seems to spread like fire through her body, his hand coming to rest upon her stomach, as had been his habit recently. He kisses her lips gently before rubbing his hand affectionately across her whole stomach. It's at this gesture that Cora suddenly recalls what she'd wanted to ask him all day, the reason she had battled against sleep.

"So, what exactly were you keeping from me when you told the story of Rosamund dressing you in her frock?" His hand stills on her waist, his cheeks flushing a childish pink.

"It may or may not have been a bet."

"What do you mean a bet?" His cheeks flush a still greater shade of pink and Cora can't help but marvel at how lovely it is to see him so relaxed with her.

"I may have said that I thought girls clothes looked more comfortable than boys to which Rosamund totally disagreed and challenged me to try her dress on with a reward of her sausage at breakfast. If I didn't try the dress on, she got my egg." Cora can't help but laugh, her head rocking from side to side.

"And because you couldn't resist the thought of an extra sausage you agreed, only to lose your breakfast sausage when nanny came back." She bursts into another set of giggles through which she can dimly hear Robert announcing that it was not actually funny, and it had been one of the most disappointing mornings of his life. She calms some time later and is pleased to find Robert smiling, little tears sparkling in his eyes. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I'm just so glad to see you happy. You haven't laughed like that since before you went to America." He shuffles closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, protecting the home of their little baby between them.

"Your mother has arranged for the doctor to come tomorrow to see me. The new one...Dr..."

"Clarkson. He's the new chap, very handsome I've heard." He seems to slightly resent the man and Cora watches as he combs his hand through his hair, the usual measure of anxiety.

"Don't you like him?" Robert doesn't answer but his fingers clench around tufts of hair. She watches him for some time, her brow furrowed desperately trying to decipher his thoughts. "Wait, are you worried because he's supposedly handsome?"

"Lots of the women in the village have been gossiping." Cora can't help but chuckle in amusement.

"In case you've forgotten, my idea of handsome is very different to other women's. I married you remember?" He stares incredulously at her, not noticing her sarcastic tone in his anxious state.

"Cora, do you think other women don't think I'm-"

"Robert I'm teasing, every woman thought you were extremely handsome. It appears your wife has good taste. But I promise, however handsome this doctor is, he won't have an effect on me. I love you, in case you'd forgotten."

"It wasn't your wandering eye I was worried about, I know how to keep you in your place." His teasing remark is joined with his hands arresting her waist, and she begins to squeal, when he seizes the movement of his fingers, his lips crush hers before she can regain her breath.

A knock sounds at the door and they both turn to each other, a bemused expression on their faces. Cora tries to hide the breathiness of her voice as she calls out for the person to enter. Violet's head appears around the door, and she clutches a small bundle in her hands.

"These are for you my dear, they are pictures of Robert as a child." She quickly leaves again after wishing them a pleasant night, her attention never straying from Cora.

Cora seemingly forgets where her thoughts were only seconds before and when Robert smatters a handful of kisses upon her neck she brushes him away.

"Darling, I want to look at the pictures." She begins leafing through the photographs, Robert having taken a new sitting position beside her, his shoulders against the headboard and one of his hands dancing on her shoulder. None of the pictures hold her attention for long, most of them being the usual poses a mother such as Violet would always choose to have commissioned of her son. But she stops at a small one of a little boy, nothing more than two, stood before a startlingly pretty red haired girl. Her hands rest on his shoulders, her gaze not on the camera but her brothers hazelnut curls. The little boy in the picture has one hand raised to his collar seemingly scratching at the skin beneath. He wears the little sailor suit Cora had fingered that day.

She reaches for the top drawer of her beside table. Her fingers instantly falling on the picture her father had pressed into her hand on the morning of his departure. The morning he'd parted from her with the fatal words 'he will love you.' It was true Cora thought, the words hadn't been fatal after all, Robert loved her even if he didn't know it. She knew that was what mattered, it was ninety nine percent of what mattered anyway. She turns the dusty photograph over, displaying her as a little girl, quite naked besides her father, wearing his white unbuttoned shirt that wafted at her sides. She turns to him, handing the picture to his waiting fingers and she watches as a small smile spreads across his face. He squeezes her hand before reaching forward and adding the picture to the pile in her lap.

"Perhaps we should do a naked photograph of you now, to compare." He grins from ear to ear and Cora swats playfully at her chest. "Or of course, I could just tell you that you are quite perfect and then examine your slender body to make sure." His lips nibble at her ear and Cora hears the thud of the photographs as they hit the floor, the present far more enticing than the past.


	19. Secret

AN: Not much to say for this one, just a massive thanks and an apology for this and the next chapter, I do love you all really, I promise!

* * *

Violet Crawley stood proudly on the front step as she ushered the new doctor into the Abbey. The nerves she felt, the bubbling in her stomach that told her it wasn't going to be alright. She had a hunch, she couldn't put her finger on what it was, perhaps the difficulty she'd had in falling pregnant all those years ago, and then the subsequent miscarriage. But whatever it was she somehow knew the bright cheery expression on Cora's face was set to not exist for long. Cora's strange morning sickness, which could only be classed as excessive had been the first signal to Violet that something was wrong. Violet's issue was she didn't want Cora to know. She'd been told she was going to lose the baby she carried and it had ripped her apart, depression had overwhelmed her and she was amazed she managed to keep going. She knows she would have preferred the situation if she hadn't been told, if it had just happened and she'd been able to live in the joys of clothes, nurseries, nannies and cribs for a little while longer.

"Welcome to Downton Doctor Clarkson."

"I'm very honoured Lady Grantham. How is Lady Downton, I was a little concerned about your remarks yesterday."

"Which is why I came to you. Much the same as she was yesterday. But, before I take you to her, I wonder if I might speak with you." His face seems to mask a slight annoyance at being diverted from his task but as she ushers him gently into the library where a tray of tea already awaits, she's pleased to note the way his eyes widen, taking in the vast collection of books.

"Did your husband collect all of these?"

"Goodness, no, my husband doesn't put time to such sensible things. Not that I would ever speak against him. It's the work of many generations. But Lord Downton is an avid reader and has added a great number of books to the collection." She allows the small talk to continue as she pours the tea, letting the doctor tell her of his training and how pleased he is about his placement.

"So, what exactly did you wish to speak to me about Lady Grantham?"

"Well, it's a rather delicate matter." She takes a deeper breath than she thinks she's ever taken before, placing her tea cup back upon the table. "Only, I feel that, from personal experience. That any problem you detect at this stage of Lady Downton's pregnancy should be kept from her and her husband."

"Lady Grantham, I have a duty as a doctor to tell my patients the details of their conditions."

"Not the details that will effect their life in a way that is not beneficial."

"Not beneficial!? Lady Grantham can you be serious?" He stands before her his face flaming with red. "I think I should be the judge of what is beneficial do you not?"

"Doctor Clarkson, I am not here to insult your ability, indeed I wouldn't have asked you here if I didn't think your opinion would be useful. But I speak from experience and a previous knowledge of the woman you are here to examine." Violet is quite amazed that the young man has such strong believes, she wasn't going to hide the fact she'd asked him because she felt, as a young man he might be more open to her views than Dr Philips who was notoriously stuck in his ways.

"Previous knowledge has no place in the medical world. Each case can be entirely individual."

"Doctor Clarkson you have never been pregnant, nor do I imagine you have any great knowledge upon the after effects a miscarriage can have upon a woman."

"Fatigue, occasional extreme thoughts."

"Doctor," she's amazed that she screams, the table rocking as she stands before him. "I miscarried my first pregnancy for very natural reasons but my doctor told me it was going to happen about a week before it did, I had the worst thoughts of my life in that week. I wanted to die. It took me a further two years to fall pregnant. I will not have that inflicted upon my daughter-in-law. If in your examination you find that their is a likelihood of her losing the child I beg you not to tell her. When the time comes she will accept it and be able to move on far more quickly."

"Lady Grantham I hope you realise that what you ask of me is impossible, I have a job-"

"A job that depends on the village of Downton which is totally within my control. I can quite easily have you moved." She hadn't wanted it to come to that, she had thought the man was reasonable. But the change of countenance in his eyes tells her she is victorious, as does the return of his body to the settee.

"Might I suggest a compromise? I will keep any revelations from Lady Downton. But I'd feel I was being utterly wrong in my practice if I kept evidence for her husband. He may be able to support her better when the time comes if he has less grieving to do himself." She looks up into the sincere look of the man before her and then, her thoughts flash to the woman above stairs, the woman who Robert loves so very much even if he doesn't know it.

"I agree to your proposal Doctor, and I must say it is a compromise that speaks highly of your morals and your belief in duty. Shall we attend to Lady Downton?" She doesn't wait for a reply. Once more leading him out of the room and ushering him to the stairs.

She stands outside Cora's bedroom with Robert for what seems like hours. They hear Cora's chirpy laugh occasionally but that doesn't help Violet relax. When the doctor exits the room she doesn't need to know him well to know its a fake smile that covers his face for Robert whom he politely asks to speak to the following day at the hospital in the village. Violet didn't even need to hear that request to know that Cora wasn't going to carry the baby to term, she'd known, she'd known since the day the girl had returned from America. Robert hurried back into the bedroom and Violet is amazed when the lowly doctor reaches out a hand to her sleeve and mumbles an almost inaudible apology.

"I must say Lady Grantham, your instinct did you credit. I knew the moment I saw her, she's not been eating well I imagine." Violet simply shakes her head unable to mask the memories of those dark weeks all those years ago from her mind. "And you were also correct to suggest I keep the news from her, against my own better judgment. She's weak at the moment, I see that. I think she would have crumbled before me, mentally at least." Something about the man prompts her to ask him to stay to lunch. Perhaps she finds his presence soothing, at least someone else around the house agrees with her for once. Or perhaps it's just his ability to be frank, open and accept his own mistakes of judgement.

* * *

Robert doesn't attempt to hide the look of mock astonishment on his face, nor does he hide the tears that slip silently down his cheeks. His heart seems to pound irregularly, as though something is taking away those missing heart beats. The baby. It's the baby that takes away the missing heart beats as he or she pulls at his heart strings, desperate to hold on, but not strong enough to do so.

The doctor doesn't say anything just watches him for some moments and for that Robert is pleased. He would have shouted and hollowed if the man had tried to comfort him, if he'd tried to tell him it was all going to be alright. It wasn't, how could it be when a life that had barely started was destined to die. A new life, a life that Cora and he already loved so very much, a life that was supposed to be bonding them, making them back into the couple they had been before Maria's passing. How was all that going to be if Cora was to be put through another round of grief. Grief for a baby that had become a part of her. A baby whom she'd created with the man she loved. Robert ached, and his heart snuffled but he knew to Cora this would feel as though her life had ended.

 _Lady Grantham and I thought it best to keep the unfortunate news from Lady Downton. The trauma will be great enough when it comes, let alone if she knows before._

That was what the doctor had said, that Cora wasn't to know. It would hurt her. Robert agreed, he had a strong suspicion it might push her so far over the edge she may not be retrievable even by the man to whom she had given her heart.

"When?" The single word falls from his parted lips, but they don't really form it. He stares at his shoes, his head resting on his hand unwilling to look the doctor in the eye. He knows it's not his fault, he knows it must be hard for him to deliver such news but still somehow he blamed him. Mankind would always find someone to blame he figured, that was how it was. At this moment who else was there to blame but the man who breathed the words 'miscarriage' and 'Lady Downton' in the same sentence.

"I can't be exact. Every woman is different. But I've seen the acute morning sickness that your wife suffers in another patient. It will be before the end of the month." Robert's eyes flit closed, the circled twenty on the calendar boring into his vision. Ten days. Ten. He had at most ten days to keep his grief from Cora.

"Was it just the lack of eating?"

"No. Stress factored heavily, and the grief, it drained your wife of all other thoughts. That severe negative thinking she went through when the baby was still in its first month of development, mixed with the fact she ate almost nothing in that time, I would say, are the main contributors. Along with her age; she's very young, most women miscarry their first child at that age."

"We tell her that. I don't like lying to her, god no. But if she thought she could have prevented it-" The tears sting and then cloud his vision, his mouth opening and closing as if to scream but no sound emerges, just the tensing of his jaw and the scrunching of his eyes making the water spill over.

"I'd like to reassure you Lord Downton that this will effect no future pregnancies, the chance of them, or indeed the health of any future child." Robert knows he should breath a sigh of relief at that, but he doesn't, his thoughts too consumed with the pretty little girl he'd been imagining for weeks, a mini Cora. Their baby.

"The most important thing you can do is call as soon as she miscarries. The quicker I can be with her, help her and treat any problems, provide medicine that will make her sleep, the better. And as for afterwards, you will want to grieve; you think you are now, but you're not, not really, so, make sure you let yourself grieve but more importantly help your wife. The worst thing that can happen is the onset of severe depression which can result in drastic consequences. Lady Downton spoke warmly of you yesterday and I saw the way you were with her, don't drop that, she's going to need you, you'll be the only person that will be able to help her through. I can provide medicine but I can't provide the love you offer her."

"Doctor, I think perhaps you mistake the relationship between my wife and I. I don't-"

"Now, now Lord Downton we are not here to discuss the intimacies of your marriage." Robert doesn't miss the smirk that covers the young man's face. He doesn't bother to tell him that everyone seems to think he likes her more than he actually does.

* * *

He climbs reluctantly into bed that night, his heart still not quite with him, his voice seeming miles away from his thoughts as he speaks of mundane topics while is mind thinks only of the tiny baby. The baby that's destiny is to be outlived by its parents.

"I thought we should start thinking about names." Her bright voice breaks into his misery and he smiles encouragingly at her, slipping further beneath the bed clothes, as far as he can go. He wishes to be swallowed up, anything, absolutely anything so he may stop feeling the guilt he's living with now. The guilt of keeping a secret from her, the guilt at having created a baby with her that she loves so much that she's going to lose. He knows he shouldn't blame himself, but he does. If he'd kept his distance as he was supposed to she wouldn't be pregnant and then she couldn't lose the baby.

"Robert? Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes...just fine. You were saying about names."

"I was, but you seem tired, we can talk about it some other time." He wants to tell her they don't have time but he knows he can't. His eyes meet her twinkling ones and he sits back up.

"I'm fine. Go ahead, what have you been thinking about?" It's the right thing, perhaps then the baby could have a name and a little headstone down by the lake. Besides the baby is real, even if it's life is to be drastically cut short he or she should be remembered; after all they have bought Cora great joy and that makes them mightily important.

"Well, it was girls names really, I know if it's a boy there's certain family names you might want to choose from."

"Cora, you are free to put forward any names that you like, it's your baby, might be your son, I'm my holding you in confined limits." She blushes a little before continuing.

"Well, for a little girl I thought perhaps Margaret or Beatrice?" Robert nods his head and takes her hand.

"I was thinking about Mary, a little like Maria, I thought we could honour her?" Her face seems to creases into a frown as she thinks for a moment.

"Perhaps not this time, I'm not quite ready yet."

"And a boy? What were the names you had thought of?"

"Well, I hadn't thought about that so much." But the flush of her cheeks and neck give her away and Robert tightens his hold on her hand, kissing her knuckles individually.

"Tell me."

"Alexander." The one word falls from her mouth in a whisper. He doesn't say anything while he marvels over how much he likes the name. "Don't you like it?"

"Sorry. Yes, I like it very much." Too much, he thinks, the thought of the name printed in block capitals into stone rather than in Cora's swirling handwriting on his birth certificate.

"Really?"

"Yes, really Cora, you needn't sound quite so shocked." He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Now we ought to be getting some sleep." He slides beneath the covers again and quickly lowers the wick not wanting Cora to see the droplets of water that shimmer on his cheeks, the face of their baby Alexander with dark curls and blue eyes slipping slowly from reality to dust.


	20. Loss

Voices rush around her; Robert, Violet, Dr Clarkson, her maid but she can't decipher one from the next. They all talk, some reassure, some tell her what they're doing to make her feel better but none of it helps. She wants to scream for them all to leave, but her voice isn't findable. Her eyes stay firmly shut, the site of the pity on their faces would be a worse sight than the image of the scarlet that plagues her closed lids. She doesn't want to remember the stains on the sheets but it's before her closed lids, the only thing she can see. She screams out as the doctor tries to disentangle her arms from where they clasp her knees to her stomach. Her empty stomach. She thrashes against the gentle hand that tries to clutch her own in an attempt to unclasp it from her legs. She didn't want him touching her, not now, not now he'd seen her fail. It was a miracle he wanted to be anywhere near her. She'd failed him. Their little boy had gone from human to dust in the space of a few minutes. It was true she didn't know it had been a boy, but the image of the hazelnut child in the sailors suit she'd fingered, his bright blue eyes shining up at her, made yet another sob wrack across her body. He gently shushes in her ear but she pulls away from his breath not wanting to let the tingle his closeness gives her take over her, not when she's grieving their little boy. She shouldn't enjoy anything while she was doing that.

"I'm afraid I've got no choice. I need to check for any internal damage and I can't do that until she uncurls herself." Cora moans at the words of the doctor but she doesn't move, she can't, the only position that comfortable is the one she's in. The foetal position she dimly realises is how she's curled herself, she's not sure whether it's ironic that's the laying of her bones and muscles that's most comfortable or whether it's just her body trying desperately to keep the baby alive in any way it can. She's amazed that the doctor doesn't try and pry her legs from her fingers again, instead the room goes silent, the gentle click of the door closing and the clink of metal on glass is all she can hear, that and the harsh breaths of Robert behind her, still clutching at her elbow. Then her head is tipped back a liquid forced down her throat. She retches against the glass but Robert holds her firmly. She tries to refuse the concoction that she doesn't doubt is trying to force her to sleep but the build up gets to much in her mouth and her reflexes kick in, forcing her to swallow.

She sobs as the liquid slips down her throat. Drowning her. She hates the images of the blood, the look of horror on Robert's face when he'd seen the colour of the sheet and the staining on her nightgown. But at least those images proved she was still living, proved that there had once been a baby. The darkness that begins to shimmer across those memories means nothing. And it wasn't right to dream of nothing, to hear and feel nothing, her baby was dead, she wanted the nightmares if only to remind her she hadn't concocted their Alexander from her imagination.

The inky blackness spreads more quickly than she wishes it to and before long she feels the heaviness encompass not only her already closed eyes but her feet and hands, followed almost immediately by her legs and arms, she attempts to tighten her hold but she feels it slipping. As the heaviness submerges her body, and heads towards her heart her breathing already showing signs of slowing she knows the doctors hands pry her fingers from her legs, the heaviness not having reached her empty middle yet she feels the air brush over it at the loss of protection her legs offered. One last sob of anger breaks from her throat and then that and her stomach falls heavy, before everything goes black.

* * *

She awakes to a dead aching in her head matched only by the sore ache of her stomach and the raw feeling in her throat. She turns to find no light beyond the windows, her eyes having no difficulty adjusting from the unbroken black of her slumber to the sketchy darkness of the night. The moon does hover through one of the panes of glass, casting a section of light upon one of the curtains. She turns her head a little further, unwilling to move her battered limbs. Her eyes find the shape beside her and she's amazed to see him still fully clothed, sleeping deeply atop the bed clothes. She can just about make out the dark rings around his eyes, he'd been crying. She shifts her weight slightly, testing the waters. When no apparent pain persists she moves a little more, one of her hands still glued to the empty space beneath her skin, the empty place that some hours before had held the reason for her whole existence. Well perhaps not her whole existence, it was to a greater percentage of her soul that she was now attempting to reach out.

Her fingers finally clasp around the top button of his shirt, the fact it's still done up a reminder to her only of the fact that his silk pyjama shirt had been speckled with their Alexander's blood and he'd gone to change it. It seemed he hadn't left her side since he'd returned from that mission. She releases the brass from its fitting and she's pleased that his breathing becomes less harsh, with the angle he'd fallen asleep it really was inhibiting his breath. She lets her fingers graze over the coarse, unshaven skin of his throat anything to distract her thoughts from the screams, sobs and stains of the day before.

She still aches she wouldn't deny that, the little baby had been a part of her, a huge part. Perhaps she secretly had hoped that it would make Robert love her and with its ceasing to exist the chance of that did too. Of course she knew that not to be true, Robert did love her, in his way, it would be nice for him to realise it though. Alexander had disappeared from the world, but the most important person, the person who had created that life with her was still here, they would support each other, grieve together. Then, one day, hopefully in the near future they could try again, they'd be granted a second chance, a second life, and hopefully some more tiny lives after that.

Her finger traces higher, taking in the curve of his chin, air whistles passed her hand and she shivers at the warmth not having realised she was cold. Her hand cups the curve of his cheek, and graces his cheekbone as she shuffles to move deeper beneath the covers. She marvels over the feel of the stubble and surprises herself when she reaches up to place her lips there. Her body brushes against his hand beneath the covers and she feels the tears accumulate in her eyes at the memory of the way his hand had caressed their baby just a few days before.

She doesn't notice his eyes open, or his breathing quicken as she lets her fingers wander to the triangle of skin that had come to light since she had released the button. Her fingers trail the skin further down, stretching beneath row of clasps. She's surprised at the way she seems to relax at the feel of his skin beneath her nails.

"Are you enjoying your examination my dear?" She jumps, his voice a whisper by her ear, his stubble tickling at her lobe. Her hand drops to her side, a deep blush staining her cheeks.

"Did I wake you?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean the disruption to my sleep is unwanted. I'm pleased to see you awake, how are you feeling, other than the obvious?" His eyes stare imploring at her, the flirtatious tone of his voice long gone, replaced by his furrowed brow and soothing voice. She's pleased to note he doesn't just ask her how she's feeling, that he seems to know she feels empty, like a failure.

"Improved. Watching you sleep was soothing me."

"Well, I am sorry I woke."

"Talking to you is better though. And, there was something I wished to ask you." She pauses waiting for him to say something. When he doesn't she fixes her gaze upon his chest again, not sure she can look at him when she asks. "I only wanted to say that I'm sorry I failed...I'll try and take better care of myself next time..." The tears spill down her cheeks before she realises she was holding them back, so nervous of what he might think of her, nervous perhaps that she'd lost his love she'd tried so very hard to gain. Yet she can't say anymore because Robert pulls her as gently as he can towards him somehow soothing that open wound in her chest that had been for the thought of losing his affection rather than because of the loss of the baby. The water spreads across his shirt as his hand rubs in relaxing patterns at the base of her back.

"Don't you ever even think those words again. You Cora have not failed me, yourself or anyone else. Goodness, I doubt you ever could fail anyone." His hand smooths over her hair and she eventually relaxes, although she thinks the sensation is mainly due to the need to move, she was pressed uncomfortably against him, and her stomach muscles were aching, the emptiness becoming a gentle throb. He senses her discomfort as she disentangles herself and places his steadying grip on her hips before running his fingertips slowly over her stomach. She groans even at this gentle touch, not from physical but psychological pain.

She looks up into his face and finds her own tears reflected there, the pads of his fingers continue to massage her abdomen, sometimes pausing to press a little harder against a tense muscle. They silently cry together, neither of them saying anything, just watching each others faces.

Her body begins to wilt before his, a headache pounding from the crying and her face collapses against him. His lips press against her hair and then her forehead before he begins to do something he's never done before. He sings. He hums a series of waltzes followed by singing a few nursery rhymes. Even her parents had never sung to her to make sure she fell asleep but Robert was. His singing works and her eyes grow heavy, eventually closing.


	21. Eternity

AN: I haven't had a chance this week to thank you all for your lovely reviews but as you know they all mean a a great deal. It would be lovely to reach two hundred reviews for this story. So, if you have time, and you're enjoying this, please please let me know- you never know I might honour you all with an Epilogue.

* * *

Robert watches as she stitches the final letter into the tiny band. It was a beautiful idea he had to admit. Cora had decided to stitch the names they'd discussed for their baby onto two small lengths of fabric and to lay them in the ground with the small headstone Robert had decided on. They would never know if the baby had been a boy or a girl but this way both were honoured. Both of the two chocolate curled children Robert had envisaged would be remembered.

Cora was currently adding the last stitch to the one that read 'Alexander' and Robert was trying hard not to chuckle at the way her tongue moistened her lips every time she casts off the silk. She was doing that now, for what would be the final time for this project and the determination on her face and the flicking of her tongue was really quite delightful- so childlike and innocent.

He moves to sit next to her as she glances up from the completed task. His hand snakes across her lower back without a second thought before he kisses the side of her face. He picks up the tiny piece of fabric with the name in pink silk from the table, smoothing his finger over the stitches that make the name of the little girl they may have laid to rest: Beatrice. Cora hands him the one she's just finished and he ties them in a quick knot at the top.

"Joined together for all eternity." She mumbles the words and Robert nods.

"We should take them to the spot after luncheon." Robert is pleased that Cora readily agrees, the tinge of sadness in her eyes does return, but it has gone as quickly as it came.

"Yes, and then we need to launch into the swing of celebrating Christmas. Your sister arrives this afternoon and I must admit I'm excited to see her." Robert chuckles, the thought of the old red stocking he found filling his mind as he thinks of all the finely wrapped gifts he's bought her.

"Excited to see my sister?"

"Yes. I haven't seen her since her wedding!"

"I know. I just didn't know you and her were so close." She's about to open her mouth and reply when Robert jumps, the sound of footsteps stepping into the room behind them. Robert jumps from the settee when his sister enters, Marmaduke clutching at her hand. "You aren't supposed to be arriving until later!" He stumbles over to his sister and kisses her cheeks before clasping his brother's hand. He can feel Cora behind him, gently pacing her steps. It was true it had been two weeks since her miscarriage but although psychologically improving she was still a little weak. Rosamund moves straight to her, kissing both her cheeks and exclaiming how upset she'd been when she'd heard the news. Cora bears the chatter as well as she can but Robert knows she'd rather not talk about it, that she'd rather just sit and talk about dresses, yes, Cora talking of dresses, but she liked to be distracted. He reluctantly leaves his wife to fend for herself as he turns back to Marmaduke.

"Robert, I am sorry, when Rosa-"

"Actually I'd rather not talk about it. I...it was...yes, just lets talk of something else. How was your honeymoon?"

"Lovely thank you, very beautiful in all ways." Robert smirks and raises his eyebrows.

"I hope you liked the gift Cora and I purchased for you in Paris?" The silly garter flashes across his vision followed by the one he'd encountered on his wedding night, not so tissue wrapped, but in an altogether more interesting location. He blushes and turns his face away, his eyes immediately falling on Cora.

"Very much." Robert senses that the man is omitting some detail from him, but he doesn't ask further questions, unwilling to talk of things that usually end in only embarrassment.

His father thankfully saves him at that moment, striding confidently into the room. Rosamund stands to greet him but she's ignored his gaze falling on Cora. Robert doesn't have a chance to intercept before the man, his own father, grabs at the knotted bands by Cora's side and throws them towards the table with disgust.

"You've finally finished them then. It's just a shame you didn't finish the actual pregnancy." Robert doesn't thank Marmaduke at that moment as the man grabs his shoulders and pulls him out of the lunge he was making for his father. He can only watch from the mans firm grip as Cora races from the room, the bands clutched in her hands. His father smirks at him before taking Rosamund's advice and leaving the room. The moment his father has escaped his vision he can think only of the tears on her face, the quick skip she'd used to escape prying eyes. When his brother releases his grip he charges from the room desperate to find her, so much so he doesn't hear the words of his brother.

"My lord, do you think he's told her he loves her yet?"

"No. Cora would have written and told me."

"But she knows."

"Of course, who doesn't, apart from Robert!"

* * *

He finds her down on the little piece of flat grass before the lake, her hands curl and uncurl around the bands in her hands, a thick fur coat protecting her willowy form from the cold. By her feet is the little spade she must have collected from the gardener, the little headstone just in front of her, a small pile of soil to one side: it was apparent she'd dug a little hole. She doesn't notice him until his hands encircle her waist, his nose brushing over the hair at the nape of her neck. Robert grabs harder as she thrashes against him, her pointed shoes kicking at his shins.

"Let me go! Why do you even want to touch me? You heard him say it, I'm a failure! I failed!" She collapses into tears and Robert adjusts his hold on her so he may lift her. He moves a little way from the little grave and lowers himself to the ground, careful not to drop her, not when she's still so fragile.

"You haven't failed. I've told you already Cora, failure has no place in any of this."

"But it does, you know it does."

"No Cora. What I know is that you are a wonderful woman who has suffered a very unfortunate thing. You will be a very good mother when the time comes, this has proved that. But far more importantly, you are here, right next to me and I know that I need you because I...I..." What was it that he wanted to say? He needed her yes, but there was so much more to it than that, he knew he'd struggle if he was told he had to live without her, the few weeks she'd spent in America had been a nightmare, he'd wanted to talk to her everyday, laugh with her and hold her, make sure she was recovering. "I'm not sure what I'd do if you weren't here." That was true, far too true, as far as his parents were concerned. She turns her red face to him before reaching up and pressing her lips gently to his, a little smile creeping at her mouth. She jumps from his lap with surprising energy before helping him to his feet and tugging him back to her little dug out spot. She kneels down and runs her hands over the headstone that reads only 'Baby Crawley' before dropping the two silk ribbons into the soil. She whispers something but Robert can't make it out before she pushes the moved soil, with her bare hands, back to where it had laid before. He reaches forward and helps her.

When the job is done she stands and brushes the mud from her fingers, he does the same before taking her hand and pulling her back to face him. He doesn't know what he wants to say, if he even wanted to say anything. But his hand tugs her still closer until their clasped fingers are pressed between their stomachs, he dances his fingers over her empty one and then looks at her face feeling his mouth open but it closes again when he seems to move inadvertently nearer her, his nose dancing over hers. Her lips meet his very briefly, her breathing a little short and her hands grasping at his jacket instead of his hand. When their lips glance over each other again it's like a spark, similar to what he'd felt the first time but somehow different. He knows he could kiss her like this forever without wanting to rip every item of clothing from her body immediately. It wasn't carnal, it was just the greatness of feeling wanted, feeling like you fit with someone. Her fingers tangle in his hair, her breath hot in his mouth but Robert parts their mouths fearing his own ability to control himself. She leans straight back into him, but her lips settle on his cheek.

"Robert..." She whines and her little lips pout in the adorable way Robert had enjoyed before the disasters of the last month.

"I can't possibly imagine what you are pouting about Lady Downton." She rolls her eyes and tugs at his jacket again, urging him closer. He lets her think she's won him over, his hands snaking slowly around her waist and his mouth lingering over her ear; he kisses her there twice, gently, teasing her and then pulls away whispering 'later' in her ear. She pouts again and he laughs causing her to scowl.

"You," she pokes him sharply in the chest, "are mean." But the grin on her face doesn't quite match her words.

"I want you to recover properly first, that's all. The doctor said we should wait at least until a week before Christmas."

"And you were really thinking of sticking to that?" He can't tell if she's serious or joking, her brow is a little furrowed and her lower lip is clutched beneath her teeth.

"Yes if it ensures your safety and health." She smiles then and her fingers fall on his face, the pads of her fingertips swirling over his cheek and brushing a loose curl back into place.

"You're far too sweet." He almost replies that she is too, but stops himself remembering how they'd ended up at this conversation, he shouldn't make himself seem interested, it would only pique her appetite, and his, again.

"And yet a moment ago I was mean." He arches an eyebrow at her as his hand slips into hers, helping her up the little incline to flat ground.

"I was teasing. As you are now."

It was strange that he'd never held her hand like this before. He had held her hand, when she'd been recovering in bed and even some nights their hands would clutch together as they slept. But he's never held her hand as they'd walked before, and they walked every day. At those times her arm was either slipped through his, or in the first few months after returning from Paris they'd walked without touching; something that makes Robert frown just thinking about it now. Walk without holding Cora in some way- it seemed rather foreign, rather unaffectionate and rude.

They arrive at the front doors but Robert stops her, pulling her gently towards the small alcove where the servants disappear after greeting guests.

"So, which type of me do you prefer? The mean, or the sweet?" The question had been biting at his brain their whole walk back. She seems to take a moment to process where his thoughts have gone but when she does a cheeky smile spreads across her pale face.

"Neither. Just like I don't like the Robert who I see at dinners, the proper gentleman who only says what everyone wants to hear rather than what he thinks. But I equally don't like you when you try too hard to please me. I much prefer you when you are yourself, when you make me laugh and say something cheeky." He stares at her tinged cheeks and her bowed head as she stares embarrassed at her shoes. Somehow he should have known that was what she was going to say, it was after all that Cora he liked the most since he would never admit he rather liked her when she was angry, she was also fairly adorable in her own embarrassment. "So, now I've spilled my heart it's surely time you told me what your favourite Cora is?" Her twinkling eyes seem to have read his mind.

"I like every Cora. You, my love, are quite perfect."

He doesn't realise the words he says are the reason for the appearance of a tear that strays down Cora's cheek. In fact, he never even notices the slip of his tongue, that he'd called her 'his love'. He thinks she's merely pleased he likes her all the time.


	22. Christmas

AN: This lines up with a one of my other stories: Stocking Surprises, if you've read that, this is the first time those stockings in that story are used! Enjoy!

* * *

It was Christmas Day, finally. That was the first thought that raced into Cora's mind as she rolled over early that morning.

"Good morning sleepyhead." She jumps at the sound of his voice so close to her ear in her still half delirious state. She reaches her fingers to her face, desperate to clear the fogginess of sleep so she may see the grin that she can hear is plastered on his face.

Robert watches with wonder as her hand comes up and brushes the sleep from her eyes before pushing some hair out of her face. She reaches for her alarm clock reading the time before she turns to him with a moan.

"Robert. This is a ridiculous hour, it's not even seven o'clock."

"Perhaps not. But I have a present for you. Lots of presents actually." She stares at his grinning countenance and follows his gaze to the end of the bed upon which sits one of the new red stockings she had purchased a month before. The red fabric is bulging with what Cora can only imagine is far too many presents.

"I hope you didn't spend too much money."

"No more than you deserve." Which was true, or at least he felt so. Cora had suffered much in the last year, and now it was time for him to show her that those trials had not gone unnoticed. Certainly not by him. It was just that he knew he was still weighed down heavily by the imbalance, Cora had suffered dreadfully and yet she didn't deserve to, not when she had given her lovely heart to him, if anyone it was him that should suffer, ignoring her in the first few months as he desperately tried to hold onto the customs he'd been bought up with, but he wasn't going to try that anymore, Cora was far more important, she would come first, always. He might never manage to give his heart to her, but he could please her, give her what she wanted, spend time with her none of which was of nuisance to him, who on earth wouldn't want to spend time with Cora?

She reaches for the stocking eagerly, despite the growing guilt in her that she she hadn't got him nearly as much. Poking from the top is a first edition of her favourite book, Pride and Prejudice; she squeals with unconfined delight at the rather battered book, her head falling to rest on his shoulders so she may kiss his neck. She'd been trying to entice Robert into kissing her soundly for the whole week and she knew she was close to breaking him, he'd been coming to bed later and later trying to make sure she was asleep so he couldn't be caught in her net, this much he had admitted to her the previous night but alas it had been Chrsitmas Eve and very almost midnight- she herself had been shattered.

He feels the stirring within him as her tongue swirls at the soft skin of his neck and he carefully manoeuvres himself from her.

"Cora, there are more presents, how about you save all your kisses until the end, otherwise Mama will not being seeing us until dinner. "

"Well, not only does that sound like an excellent way to spend the day, but I'm pleased you're finally coming around to the doctors instructions. A whole week has gone by since that date he gave us and still you haven't let me anywhere near you." He tries not to get angry at the digression the morning has taken. It was true he refused her intimacy for the last week, wanting to make sure she was totally recovered but he was ready now- ready to trust himself to not get too carried away. She seems to sense his discomfort because her gaze returns to the stocking and she pulls out a selection of tissue wrapped boxes.

"I saw them while you were in America. I was going to give you them as a return gift but, well, I never got around to it." He scratches at the hair on the back of his neck and Cora reaches over to still his hand leaving the boxes unopened in her lap.

"You need to stop getting anxious all the time." She leans against him, and gently starts untying the bow that seals the largest box. Inside the box sits a tiny pendant, an open heart in solid gold. The tears sting at her eyes, happy tears for the first time in some time. Not that it hadn't happened often lately, she'd been filled with joy when he called her 'my love' only a few short weeks ago.

"I..." She turns towards him and presses her lips to his not wanting him to struggle for the words she knows he won't be able to find, besides she doesn't need to hear them until he realises, not when she knows what they are anyway.

He watches as she reaches for the smaller box, her long, slender fingers carefully releasing the bow. He wants to reach out and rip the lid from the box, the suspense seemingly killing him. He wouldn't deny it, she was stunning this morning, her hair mused and her nightdress creased. He reaches for the end of her plait inadvertently, pulling the ribbon from the end. She turns slightly, her hands stilling on the box she holds, a smile curling at her lips.

"Don't stop opening the box just because of me." His voice is firm, his hands don't still. The chocolate curls fall through his fingers one at a time, before covering her porcelain neck. She was beautiful, he'd always found her beautiful but that wasn't just on the outside it was reflected on the inside too. He'd realised that in the last week, that he didn't just enjoy the intimacy- he'd coped without it for some weeks without too much disappointment. She twists the ring from side to side, letting the cluster of diamonds sparkle and Robert is pleased when she slips it onto her finger. "It was because your engagement ring was from the collection, I wanted to get you something of your own."

She merely nods at his words, the guilt washing over her again, Robert had spent a fortune. But it wasn't just guilt that plagued her, the realisation that Robert was so very close to realising what everyone else already knew. She thought she'd be excited but it was nerves that fluttered in her stomach. He'd purchased these times out of love, she knew that and yet he didn't realise it; she who knew her feelings had spent very little in comparison. It was true she'd invested in some new ice skates for him, so that he would fulfil his promise of taking her skating on the lake when it froze. She'd gone alone last year, a month or so before their wedding and Robert had watched, and rather enthralled had promised he would skate with her one day.

A selection of chocolates fall from the stocking next and Cora laughs when she notes that almost all are strawberry centred. So he'd been taking note of everything she did.

He thinks it is the sound of her laugh that prompts him to reach forward, and twisting the wrapper quickly from the chocolate, place one in his own mouth. He lets it sit between his teeth and sure enough Cora seems to remember the game they'd played on their wedding night. She reaches forward with her own mouth and takes the sweetness from his teeth. She chews for a little while before turning back to him, her lips press against his and the sweetness from the chocolate is nothing compared to her chocolate flavoured lips pushing his own apart, her tongue twisting against his tasting of chocolate and Cora. She moves closer to him, letting her fingers slowly release his shirt buttons; her hands trailing over his skin. His gasps ricochet between their joined mouths for a moment before he reluctantly lifts her hands from him and parts their lips.

"You haven't finished exploring your stocking." His voice is far too husky, his lips still lingering in front of hers. She turns her lips to his again, desperate to try and break his resolve.

"I don't wish to explore my stocking when your mouth is before me." Her voice is quiet, a whisper between their faces but she knows he understands from the bright shade of pink his cheeks flush.

"You seem to know your own desires very well for such a young lady." She cracks a smile at his teasing and Robert takes the opportunity to lift her from his lap, where she had somehow managed to tangle herself.

"You forget my dear, I've had a very handsome teacher." He chuckles at that, his forehead coming to rest on hers.

"I won't deny you Cora. God knows I don't think I could bear to after that kiss. But I would appreciate you finishing your gifts first."

Robert is relieved that his heartbeat slows as she returns her energy to her stocking. Not that time was on his side, there was only two gifts left and Cora was not going to let him go until he had given into her. She plucks the scent bottle from the bottom and he comments on how nice it smells on her, but his comment is half hearted as is her exclamation that she's pleased he likes it, their minds far more focused on how nice the tingling sensation of his breath on her neck is. He clasps his hands on her waist, moving her to sit directly in front of him, he moves all her hair to one side before leaning forward to kiss behind her ear, nibbling at the lobe before he whispers against the skin.

"The last present is not really a present." She turns her face, her cheek resting in the place of her ear. She has one single line across her forehead, her hand fumbling in the stocking.

As she pulls the soft item into her vision, her desperate need to be with Robert, kiss him, touch him, consume him in a way that she knows isn't good for her is momentarily forgotten as she laughs, not because his fingers have contracted over the skin at her waist but because of what she holds in her hand: the matching stocking.

"I thought you could do me a stocking next year." His sparkling eyes and the matching grin make Cora roll her eyes. She collects up the items and places them back in the stocking before moving the whole thing to her dressing table. She knows his eyes watch her as she walks across the room. But it's when she's sat before him again, her hands resting on one of his thighs, and her lips inches from his that she says what she's been thinking.

"You Robert Joseph Crawley are one scheming gentleman. First you woo an innocent American into giving her heart and now you make her up a stocking only so that she will have to make you one next year. What exactly do you have to say for yourself?"

"Only that you will still get a stocking next year and the year after and for every year to come."

"As long as I do you one?" Her eyebrows have raised in mock amusement.

"That's about the size of it." She giggles her delightful giggle before her lips press against his, her hands sliding into his hair. "Merry Christmas Cora."

"Um, Merry Christmas to you to my dear, now I believe you mentioned something about not being able to deny me?" It's his laugh that fills the gap between them as he finally brings his lips to hers, pulling her down to lie atop him as his body moulds perfectly into the pillows.

Needless to say they are both late for Christmas lunch and each wear a quite remarkable grin when they do finally arrive.


	23. Skating

AN: This chapter is again similar to what I have written before in 'That Bears No Resemblance to the Past.' Perhaps they do get a little carried away, but hey ho, it's Cobert! This is the second to last chapter, and then there is the promised epilogue.

Another story I've been working on, the sequel to 'Your Wish is My Command' will be up when this is finished, although updates are likely to be less frequent, but more about that another time! Enjoy!

* * *

She squeals and reaches for his hand all in one motion, her skates slipping far too easily on the ice. Her hand misses his but that's only because his hands have fallen to her waist, tugging her back upright just before she falls.

"I've got you." He mumbles the words against her neck as she falls back against his chest. She can hear Rosamund and Marmaduke squealing somewhere behind them, she turns to see her sister being attacked by her husband's hands. The pair leave the ice soon afterwards and untying their skates join Patrick and Violet at the picnic tables. "Would you like to join them? For some food?" The vibrations of his words fall against her neck again and a shiver runs down her spine. Robert wraps his arms more tightly around her misinterpreting her shiver.

He snakes his hands over her stomach as he pulls her coat more tightly around her. She doesn't care to admit how perfect it feels to be moulded against his body like this- all she wants to do is for him to carry her back to the house and curl up in their warm bed together, but she was the one that had begged and begged to skate with him, she couldn't run away now he was here. Christmas Day had been wonderful, curled around each other, even if they had only just made it in time for luncheon. He passes his lips over her neck again and she takes a steadying breath, determined to keep her desire buried- she was a lady after all, and her in-laws were gossiping on the bank. She's amazed when Robert steps back from her and she suddenly remembers she'd failed to answer him.

"Are you sure you don't want some food Cora?"

"Quite sure. Might we play a game?" She swivels in his arms, her hands resting on his overcoat, her eyes peering up at him.

"What game do you have in mind?" His voice is as teasing as hers which pleases her no end. She presses her nose to his chin, running it over the soft stubble she'd refused to let him shave off that morning, the truth was she rather liked it. She wasn't sure what it was, the texture perhaps, or just the way it seemed to scratch at her skin in a comforting way.

"I thought you could chase me. You have to give me a head start though obviously."

"And why is that Lady Downton when you have skated far more than I?"

"Because I am your lady, and deserve some advantages. You know now you're married you are at my disposal."

"Really?" But the way his eyebrows raise and a blush warms his cheeks tells her that he's only teasing and that really he agrees with her. The world may be a patriarchal one, but in some ways the world is quite the reverse, every man governed by his wife, does exactly as she wishes him to, and if it's not ones wife a man is at the disposal of it's other women in his life, he's always the one that has to rearrange his schedule to fit in a dinner out, not her, never her.

He tilts his head a little further forward, bringing his nose to hers, he moves to press his lips to hers but she giggles as she turns, having waited for his lips to get that close, teasing him. She glances over her shoulder as she races away from him, pleased to see a narrowing of his eyes that suggests a hint of anger at the non-existent kiss.

"Don't just stand their Robert...catch me."

They pursue each other for some moments, but Cora is so quick, so agile upon her feet, whereas he stumbles. He falls to the ice a couple of times before he finally begins to close the distance between them. She screams, as he doesn't remember to slow down, and crashes into her with his full weight. She somehow manages to hold herself up while he fails to regain his balance, falling flat on his bottom. She lands surprisingly gracefully on top of him, his hands having not freed themselves of her waist. Her loud laugh echoes across the lake as she rolls off him onto the ice.

"Cora, I fail to see what is so funny. That really hurt." She turns back to him and easing herself into her elbow shuffles towards him. A need for that kiss she'd cut short earlier seems to spread from the pit of her stomach and she moves still closer, running one hand over his jacket.

"I'm sorry my love, what can I do to help? Perhaps I could kiss you? Might that take the pain away?" He smirks at her forwardness and Cora knows he's unable to refuse her, he does rather like it when she voices what she wants.

"You could." He sits up a little, pressing his nose to hers again, it seems he's as desperate to have that kiss she'd cut short earlier. Her lips quickly grace his before she turns sheepishly away, her gaze falling upon their family sat eating on the far side of the lake; she'd suddenly remembered they were there. He gently strokes her cheek before reaching quickly for her waist and pushing her back towards the ice. She tries to fight against his actions but with a last squeal she acquiesces to him. His breath falls upon her nose as he leans over her; her heart seems to race, not from their risqué position but from the look she sees in his eyes, could that be him realising?

"Ignore them, and kiss me properly Lady Downton before I have to tickle it out of you." She gasps, his hands already massaging at her waist, his fingers teasing her. She takes one last reluctant glance towards his parents before lifting her lips to his, the bubbling in her stomach and the thoughts in her mind too pressing to ignore. His tongue insistently presses against her lips trying to part them, it doesn't take much effort on his part as her lips seemingly fall open, desperate for his attention. Her tongue meets his and she can't help but smile at the sensation, each time they had kissed since the loss of their baby had become more heated, whatever the situation. Robert may not have voiced his love, but in every other way it shines through. Their mouths seem to joust endlessly but it can't be for more than a minute, her hands automatically finding a resting place in his hair. When the cold begins to get uncomfortable on her back, even managing to seep through her thick coat she shuffles awkwardly.

"Robert?" She mumbles the word between kisses but he immediately parts their lips.

"Is something the matter, don't you like-"

"I'm getting rather cold, the ice is even getting through my coat." He sits up pulling her into his lap. It's then as he looks at her she can sense his heart starts, her fragile nature catching up on him as her lips chatter once together, and then again in quick succession.

"I would lift you and carry you back to the picnic. But, I'm likely to land flat on my face!" She giggles against his coat before clambering to her feet. He chuckles when she watches his struggle to stand for a moment before holding her hands out.

"Don't look like that Robert. It's not bad to have to be helped by a woman sometimes. You should know that in certain circumstances being helped by a woman is more desirable than by a man."

"And what occasions are these my love?" She knows that's the second time he's said that In the last few weeks, and after their rather passionate kiss before his parents only moments before, it feels different, like maybe he's bordering on realising.

"Well," as blushes a little but when she sees his beaming face she knows he knows already. "You know Robert..."

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"When I, well, I imagine you prefer my undressing you to Carson?"

"And what makes you think that?" They are sat on the bank now and Cora is slightly surprised when he lifts her leg to his lap and starts untying her skates before his own.

"Well, things, reactions you might have, I am not going to mention them here though."

"Is that because you don't like to mention the word, or because my parents sit behind us?"

"The latter. Although I feel rather forward to say that if we were alone I would say it." She blushes, never did she imagine she ever be saying such things out loud.

"Cora, I-"

"For goodness sake you two. Stop continuing your shenanigans on the bank we've already had enough of a display when you were on the ice." His mother's voice cuts viciously between their little moment and Cora starts, he was going to say it, Robert was going to say that he loved her.

"Yes, for goodness sake Robert. Don't pretend to be affectionate when you couldn't give a toss. She's already failed at the only thing she had to get right."

"That's enough!" Robert's voice echoes across the clearing and she knows her own eyes are ridiculously wide; a piercing blue. "I won't hear of it again; don't speak against Cora. You have no right to, if I hear it again there will be trouble."

"Why defend her now Robert?" His father's firm tone cuts across the silent circle again.

"Because," she's stood beside him now and he reaches for her hand before turning to his father. "I love her."

Her heart seems to disappear, she didn't think the declaration would make any difference, but somehow it does, it feels different to definitely have him know his own feelings when everyone else has known them so well for months.

"I love you." He pulls her softly into his arms, and kisses her hair. "I would kiss you properly, but Mama is watching." She chuckles against his chest. "However," a sudden thought occurs to him and he races over to his sister. His whispers quickly in her ear and Cora stares dumbfounded after his back, tears prickling at her eyes. He strides back to her a moment later, Rosamund's twinkling grin following him. "I have a surprise for you my love." He takes her hand and walks her away from their family. He squeezes gently desperate to reassure the little frown she knows is on her face; she quickly smiles not wanting to worry him when she was perfectly fine, if a little shocked.

He leads her through the trees and out the other side. Cora clutches ridiculously to his hand, he keeps walking, seemingly determined, even though they have now left his parents far behind.

"Robert, I know you're excited about whatever it is you have planned. But please, kiss me." He stops suddenly, staring at her, as she tries to not feel uncomfortable with his gaze. She stares back at him, letting her eyes stray over his face, his eyes seem to shine like they never really have before.

He lowers his face to hers, tilting her chin upwards so he can see in her eyes. His nose runs gently over hers and he feels her sharp intake of breath as his other hand pulls her waist to his own. He runs his finger over her cheek, and then his thumb over the corner of her lips. His lips touch hers very briefly, a mere glance before he allows himself the liberty of pressing more insistently but she relishes in the touch regardless. Her lips part, her hands already tangled at the nape of his neck.

It seems an age before he forces his lips from hers and even then she reaches up for them again, desperate to feel his tongue lapping so desperately at her own with love. Yes, love, he loved her and he had announced it.

"I love you my dearest darling Cora." He whispers the words against her lips before pressing a chaste kiss to them, one of many thousands to come that afternoon.


	24. The Summer House

AN: The final real chapter, epilogue on Saturday! Thank you all for the lovely reviews, favourites, follows etc, it all means tremendous amounts! This chapter again builds on ideas from other stories of mine. This chapter is definitely **M-rated** , so if you don't like that stuff...

Hope you enjoy! And thank you again.

* * *

He watches her sleeping for some moments, her hair in a mad sprawl across the pillow. The sheets and the red velvet cover for the bed are tucked across her breasts and rests under her armpits. His hands have found their home on her slender waist and he wraps one arm round her stomach before shifting himself nearer her. His lips seemingly inadvertently dip to the ridge between her shoulder and neck. He trails his lips a little higher, to the curve of her neck, and then to the spot that makes her murmur in a most approving manner, beneath her ear. He lets his eyes wander over her pale skin and the curve of her eyelashes while he waits impatiently for her to wake.

It's her lips that curl first, followed by the stretch of her neck beneath his lips, earning him more sweet skin to cherish before finally one eyelash reluctantly parts itself, her blue orb catching the thin stream of light coming from the window. She murmurs, a delightful tiny tremble of her voice as he lets his lips fall onto her cheek.

"Robert..."

"Yes my darling, is there a problem?" He runs his hand down her leg before letting it linger on the inside of her thigh. Her breath hitches, and her hand drops to his, shifting it from her leg.

"Not so much of a problem, I'm rather enjoying this summer house, but I do wish for you to ease your grip a little so that I may turn to face you." He chuckles against her neck but tightens his grip, letting her back rest flush against him. Her breathing seems to falter again but he doesn't doubt that's her innocence overcoming her again, the feel of his orgasm pressed against her bottom.

"You don't need to see me my love. Feeing is quite the in thing." He nips with his teeth at her neck and feels her hips push backwards into his arousal.

"That it might be. But I want to kiss you and I can't do that if we are not facing one another." He nuzzles his nose over her hair.

"Mm, but I like the position we are in at the moment." A dark hue causes her cheeks to appear still more lovely than they are anyway and he kisses her cheek reassuringly before loosening his grip.

She swivels immediately in his arms. Her hands trailing a short pattern over his bare chest before she tilts her full lips to his. Her hands tangle through his ruffled hair quickly, her lips insistently pushing his apart. His hands reestablish their position on her slender hips, his tongue meeting her sweet one.

He'd always enjoying kissing her, being intimate with her but somehow it was different since his declaration yesterday, not only did he no longer feel guilty taking her to bed, not that he now realised, he had for months. Making love, as it simply always should have been because he had loved her, really for quite some time, almost all the time, was quite the most natural thing in the world, they both enjoyed themselves, both teased and laughed, kissed and touched.

His hand moves between her legs, reaching for the warmth he can already feel radiating there. She doesn't break from their kiss at his touch as she might have done all those months ago, this was his Cora- the forward, sparky, far from shy Cora he'd originally met, the woman he had fallen for. That he supposed is why his realisation had taken so long, she'd got lost herself somewhere in the middle, but now she was here, she was back and they were ready to at least start from where they had left off.

She's slick and wet already, a breathy gasp between their mouths accompanies his explorations as she finds pleasure in his touch, that was his aim, always his aim, it always had been, she had to enjoy it. His other hand weaves across her breasts, twisting at her nipples in time to their joined mouths and his thumbs probing. He's knows he's hit a nerve when her fingers tug sharply at his curls, her lips freezing before dropping from his. He makes the motions again, the swirl of his thumb joined by the sharp tweak at her breast.

She seems to note her own pleasure is greater than his, despite the fact he meets her gaze when he catches her spying the dark navy his orbs are likely to be in his current state, and trails her fingertip and nail along the junctures of his muscles before letting them settle on his abdomen and then his manhood. Her nail traces lightly, like a dusting but it's still enough to explicit a response and his blush matches hers as he twitches against her finger. She continues her pattern to his tip and the sensation makes him still his hands, his mind flooding quickly with images from the night before.

"Would you like me to do what I did last night?" Her husky voice murmuring over his lips makes him jump, his own mind so caught up in the memories of her mouth on him.

"No." She'd asked so innocently the night before, he'd used his mouth to pleasure her, something he'd only done once before, on their wedding night and when he'd finished, sending her with quite some force over the edge of her precipice, she'd inquired if she could pleasure him so 'with my mouth.' He'd intended to tell her no, but the words of his friends all those years ago, about how perfect it felt, quite beyond anything else- that it was something a man would have a mistress solely for (or at least one had claimed he would), he'd murmured an almost inaudible yes, but she'd heard. Not that he felt she didn't already know, apparently the blush that covered his cheeks had given him away.

"Why not, did you not like it last night?" She sounds suddenly serious and he turns his thoughts back to her. Moving his thumb swiftly over the wet folds and lowering his nose to hers.

"It was beautiful. But, this morning I wish to make love to you without all the dirty additions."

"Dirty?"

"Many people would deem them so."

"I beg to differ. They only call them dirty because they do not have the circumstances, or I imagine the trusting relationship that makes them so pleasurable to us." He blushes at her sentiment, she'd found joy, that was important but it didn't change the fact, however much he craved it, that it was not something he was going to allow them to indulge in often, she wasn't a play thing, there to give him what he liked- she had a life, a heart as well, and it was hardly the most gratifying way to show his love, in fact it was fairly unpleasant for her, however much she pretended to like it.

His lips meet hers in a chaste kiss before he deepens it, lifting her thigh to rest atop his, increasing his access to her folds. She whimpers between their mouths, his thumb pressing harder, more insistently. Her own hand rubs over him with a little more force and he rolls onto his back, pulling her to straddle him, coming far too quickly unwound.

She glances at him for a second before she lets her slick folds encompass him, her finger rubbing once gently over his tip before she does so, Robert moans at the drop of liquid he feels pool onto her fingertip, before he groans quite the most guttural version of her name since she'd lowered her mouth to him the night before. She whispers herself, her lip caught between her teeth before she moves above him, tantalising slowly, just the once, and so not far enough. He makes a grab for her hips, desperate to lower her the rest of the way before she rises again but she catches his hands with amazing skill and pins them either side of his head upon the pillows.

"No touching." She keeps her hands on his. Her body lowering itself once more. Again she leaves him screaming inside, and moaning aloud, her thrust not allowing him the depth of her they both so want. He thrashes his hands against her grip, desperate to touch her, anywhere. She only tightens her hold but in compensation allows him the faster pace he'd been craving.

She moves mesmerisingly above him and he's once again struck by how stupid he's been, how did he not realise how much he loved her sooner, how did he not realise that the desire he felt for her went beyond the base need? Her curls fall across her shoulders, the ends brushing delicately over her breasts, he aches to reach out and touch her, caress her, show her with his touch that he really does love her and cherish her but every slight flex of his fingers only turns her grip more into a vice.

He feels the telling signs of her climax, she begins to pulse with more vigour around him, her breathing turning instead into moan followed by her whimper. His own hips buck in response and he meets her thrust for thrust. The rippling of her sex around him becomes a permanent sensation, he tries to ignore the sensation, knowing that she's not quite as ready as him, her moans not yet a sporadic groan with each downward movement of her hips.

She shuffles a little over him, adjusting her position slightly, increasing the contact of their bodies and he groans her name, the sensation sending him so so close to the edge. If he had his hands free he'd touch her at their joining, a sure way to make her back arch and her body launch over the barrier instead he just watches her face, it scrunches slightly, her nose wrinkling in passion- he'd see the look before and he'd heard the gasp of his name that escapes her parted lips between two groans, she falls against him, her breasts meeting his chest as her back arches. His own body gives itself over then and he hears her decisive sigh at the event.

She has released his hands and he takes the opportunity to run them down the length of her sides, and then back up her back, stroking in repetitive circles as their chests still rise and fall dramatically. She shuffles a little, her face is turned into the crook of his neck and her heavy breaths on his skin are something he knows he enjoys far too much, it was the simple pleasures that were just as wonderful, laying together afterwards, their limbs still entangled. He curls his fingers into her hair and she hums affectionately against his neck. He finely disentangles her legs from him a moment later, carefully easing his weight from beneath her so that he may face her.

He spies the first dimples on her arms that signify goose flesh and quickly eases the sheets over her. She takes the blanket enthusiastically and Robert makes to get out of bed and add some more wood to the fire but her small slender hand lands on his upper arm.

"Hold me, sort the fire later." He reluctantly swings his legs back into the bed and wraps his arms around her waist, she quickly rests her head against his shoulder and a slight shiver runs down her spine at the sudden heat. He pulls the covers higher, running his hands firmly over her back as he does so. He drops some kisses into her hair and her eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

"Perhaps we should ask Walters to get your maid to bring you down some clothes when he comes with the breakfast later."

"I'm fine really. Although, I have been wondering about something; why is there a bed in the summerhouse?" He chuckles.

"It was built by my great-grandfather for his mistress." She moves from him, her eyes wide with shock, her hands pushing the covers from her body.

"Why on earth did you bring me here, to a place for a mistress, is that how little I mean." He grabs at her waist pulling her sharply back on to the bed, she lands against his chest, still thrashing.

"My love-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Cora, let me finish. You hate all that as much as I do, I know that, but this was different, he loved her, very much. She was housed here and his own wife knew all about it. In fact, my great-grandma and the lady who lived here were great friends, they hosted balls and everything together." She relaxes in his arms and a mischievous grin spreads across her face.

"So you're planning on locking me in here?" Her full lips drop to his nose. "And visiting me every night?"

"No. It would be far too much effort to have to walk all the way here to see you. And I dread to think the effort it would take to actually get out of bed and return to the house. Whereas your bedroom in the Abbey, is perfectly positioned. I can join you whenever I like, and stay as long as I like."

"Mm," she drops her mouth to his own, running her tongue along his lower lip, he makes to part her lips but she removes her sweetness. "You say that, yet you've never made much effort, aside from this morning, to stay and make love to me rather than rushing off to breakfast."

"Is that a problem Lady Downton?" Her forehead rests against his as she chuckles, her hands knotting around his curls.

"Well, it hasn't bothered me too much up to his point. But now you love me..."

"I do love you Cora, very much. I have no idea where I've been the last year, or in fact since the season that we met, but I fear that I've loved you rather longer than I realised. In fact, when I cast my mind back I think I've probably loved you all along." She stares into his crystal eyes and lets her lips drop to his again, her hands running over his chest. Robert knows that's all the response he's to get, she's not sure what to say and so she's kissing him instead. He can't resist parting her mouth this time and she lets him, his tongue dancing merrily with hers. He rolls them over, laying her gently on her back, his lips drop to her neck suckling at the soft skin.

"I love you." She whispers the three words quietly much like she had all those months ago, almost a year ago. The time when he'd turned and ran, frozen up. He can't help but want to shake himself for that absurdity. The words mean so much more now, they symbolise a relationship that had been a dream some years ago and was now a reality. But they were better than that, they were about him and Cora. His Cora. About a relationship that was going to be a strength for both of them, to give each other guidance in the future, to have children at some point. He had more belief in himself for merely knowing Cora, she'd changed him, he'd gone against his parents for her all those months ago and he realised this was why, he'd loved her, he always would. Those three words would never scare him again, he'd never freeze up at them again. The warm fuzzy feeling was here to stay and he liked it, he liked that the three words were no longer a threat, they actually made him want to kiss her, make love to her, mumble the words himself.


	25. Epilogue- Thirty-Five

AN: Thank you all again for the support and reviews. New story ( the sequel a lot of you requested) will be up next Saturday.

A note for this epilogue, I guess this is how I really want series 6 to start, us Cobert shippers have to dream, because well, Fellowes doesn't do much of that for Cobert, so yeah...enjoy. X

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February 16th 1925

She wakes cuddled against his chest in the unfamiliar bed. It was strange to think they hadn't frequented it in years. Since before all the girls were born. She had to be honest it had been a beautiful idea, to stay in the summer house for the weekend (her mother-in-law had thrown a small fit at the thought of such an absurd length of time) over their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.

In truth it had all been Roberts's idea, she'd known nothing of it until he'd guided her, blindfolded, down the paths late after dinner on Friday night. She'd known roughly where she had been for some time, but after making the mistake of telling Robert she was aware of her surroundings he'd taken it upon himself to twirl her round and round until she was quite confused, until he'd lifted her into his arms and quite obviously stepped over a threshold: light seeped through the cloth and heat reached her limbs, quite a contrast from the crisp February air they had been ambling through.

He'd removed the obstruction from her eyes then, but not before teasing her neck with his kisses. They'd made love among the sheets of the big bed, the fire blazing in the corner, into the early hours of the morning before she'd fallen asleep against his chest.

Now, thinking back over the night before Cora couldn't help but realise how far they'd come, how long their journey had been, how full of discovers, good and bad it had been. Not just in the thirty-five years they'd been battling through marriage, but in the very last year, since this day a year before they'd struggled though an awful lot but as ever, they had both made it out the other side, intact and still speaking to the other. They always seemed to.

And somehow if anything, they were better than the year before, Robert was certainly more on the ball as to how to keep her happy, how to surprise her, just as he had done this weekend. It wasn't just the idea of taking her to the summer house, the first place they'd been (and spent a week) after he announced, rather suddenly that he loved her, all of thirty-four years ago. He'd gone to great lengths to keep the secret, to keep the adventure a surprise. And still more than that he'd purchased a gift, and written a card which he'd presented to her carefully wrapped with an accompanying speech which had been full of things she knew he felt but he never expressed, she didn't expect him to, he found his feelings difficult to cope with and always impossible to explain, he always had. With all this before her, she'd inevitably started crying and mumbling about her gift being back at the house. He'd grinned then and raced over to the table where in fact the gift she'd wrapped for Robert was placed; with a merry grin on his face he'd explained how he'd got Miss Baxter on side and she'd given away the hiding place.

All in all it had been a splendid evening, one of the best she could remember and now opening her eyes to the early February sun she couldn't help but be hopeful for what today was to bring. She hears the grumble beside her at the same moment she watches his hand thump the bedside table (items of furniture that sat a little closer to the bed than they did in her room) for the second time since they'd found the bed late the night before, he'd bashed his hand. She giggles in what she thinks is a silent manner, into her pillow, but she soon finds out that in fact he can most certainly hear her.

"Cora," his voice is close to her ear, his nose tickling at her hair, "you had better not be laughing otherwise there will be some trouble." She can't help but splutter again at his failed attempt to scare her, he was after all only teasing. His hands move vigorously at her sides and she squeals, begging him to stop. It was an old game they hadn't played in some years, tickling her used to be his favourite pastime. He does still his hands some time later, his own breath as short as hers. Sometimes it was more noticeable than others that they were older than they once were, and this, this was certainly one of them, not that it seems to deter Robert at all, he just resumes his teasing by kissing her neck, in a slow gentle pattern to her lips. "Good morning my love, I hope you slept well." She rolls back against him, pressing a kiss to his chest, as he stops his attentions and lies flat on his back again.

"I did. But I always do, as long as you're right here by my side."

"I'm always right here Cora. I know we forgot that at points this year. But I am." Some minutes of silence envelope them as they lay curled happily around each other, not a care in the world. "Do you remember the first time we came here?"

"How exactly could I forget the first you said the words 'I love you' in that order, out loud? Of course I remember." He chuckles a little before falling into an expression Cora knows well, one of thought, too much thought.

"I was so slow. Blind. I-"

"Darling, we don't need to have this discussion. Love is blind, isn't that what they've always said?"

"Yes, but I suppose mine wasn't totally blind, I got there in the end. Not like Mama." Cora closes her eyes at that, remembering briefly the third year of their marriage. Edith's birth and Mary's first birthday had been amongst it, but so had Patrick's death and then later in the year Rosamund's confirmation that she couldn't have children, not that one hadn't seen that coming. The woman had always said she'd taken Cora's advice and never allowed anyone to let her hope otherwise.

"Do you think Mama ever realised? Or told him how she felt?"

"No, he died as broken hearted as he had lived." Cora doesn't make a comment to that, she doesn't want to. She's only beyond pleased it isn't her, not that it ever would have been, she'd known long before Robert had said it that he did in fact, love her. She reaches over and kisses his neck, desperate to drag him back out from the past that he has such a habit of trying to relive.

"Darling-"

"It's alright Cora, I haven't forgotten that the past can not be changed, isn't that what you always say?" She only nods as he rolls to face her, pulling her naked body flush against his own. "Which is why, if, Lady Grantham, you will allow me, I would like to examine your fingers." She holds them up for his inspection already guessing that he wants to check the new ring he had given her the night before was still safe on her finger. It was a simple ring, a single, fair sized diamond set in gold, but it was what was on the inside that mattered, their names had been inscribed either side of the letters C and R that are swirled together in an elegant emblem. When he finds it, he kisses it and she smiles lifting her lips to his. "I love you Cora, don't forget that, or for that matter let me forget it."

"I won't. As long as we don't forget that I love you too." He pulls her closer, his lips closing over hers in the perfect way they always had. They had discovered lots together they really had, but Cora had to admit that their love for each other, the perfect way they moulded together, both physically and metaphorically, was the best discovery she'd made. It was the discovery every woman dreamed of having about some man in her life. Cora was only thankful that she'd not only found that, but she'd found it with the man she'd married, her companion in everything. Her Robert, just as she was his Cora.


End file.
